


my fingers will find yours

by Knightblazer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Hank Anderson, Hands, Holding Hands, Introspection, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: Flashes of snow and dirt and frost flash across his vision, snapshots of a memory that is both his and isn’t his. Hank puts them aside before they can further impede what he intends to try tonight.“It’s alright.” He steps back from the front door and gives space for Connor to enter, gesturing at the same time. “Come on in.”(Android squared AU, post-revolution. Hank and Connor attempt to work out the kinks in their burgeoning relationship. )





	1. the present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chococo_mao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chococo_mao/gifts).

> Written for the [Hankcon Reverse Big Bang 2019](https://hankconrbb.wordpress.com/).
> 
> Well, it's finally here. Writing this has been a pretty challenging task for me, but I'm glad I managed to wrangle something out at the end. Huge thanks to [**Mao,**](https://twitter.com/chococo_mao) of course, for being ever patient and understanding with my struggles, and making some damn fine art which you can see [here](https://twitter.com/chococo_mao/status/1178156454399766528?s=21). Thanks for working with me on this, and I hope everyone enjoys this fic. :)

It’s well past midnight by the time Hank hears the knock on the door. More for Cole’s benefit than anything else, but Hank appreciates the effort nonetheless. It’s probably better this way, should anything happen again. He gets up from the couch and goes over to open the door.

Considering everything there’s really only one person who would be on the other side of said door, but it still surprises Hank nevertheless to see Connor standing there. Even if Hank was the one who called him here, there is no way to guarantee that Connor would’ve come. Especially considering what happened the last time.

“...you came.” It’s certainly a relief more than anything else. Even if nothing else happened besides this… it's good that at least he can see that Connor is still alright. 

Connor gives a small, sullen nod. “I apologize… for having been silent for so long.”

Hank suppresses the urge to snort. Wasn’t that long ago when Connor made that apology the first time round, though circumstances were different back then. Or maybe not that different, with what he’s come to learn since then…

_(“So many people see wintertime as a beautiful thing, yet it's regarded to many as the most dangerous seasons of the year. I suppose it's because there are so many things you can bury in the snow. All of them left to rot and never to be discovered.”)_

Flashes of snow and dirt and frost flash across his vision, snapshots of a memory that is both his and isn’t his. Hank puts them aside before they can further impede what he intends to try tonight.

“It’s alright.” He steps back from the front door and gives space for Connor to enter, gesturing at the same time. “Come on in.”

The hesitance appears on Connor’s face as clear as day as soon as Hank does that, but it doesn’t seem to deter him from stepping in. That’s a good sign at the very least. Hank quietly closes the door once Connor has crossed the threshold and goes to sit next to him on the couch where Connor has already settled down on.

Connor glances down onto said couch and presses down against it slightly with his hands. “...this is a new couch?”

Hank scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, after what happened to the last one…” He trails off and tries to pass it off as a helpless shrug, but it's impossible to not catch the wince that Connor makes. Hard not to see why he wouldn’t react that way. “It’s fine, though. It probably needed to be replaced sooner or later anyway.”

A quiet hum from Connor in response. Hank figures those words wouldn’t fully ease off Connor’s worries, but at least now it doesn’t seem like he wants to bury himself to the ground as intensely as before (or at least from what he can tell). Which is probably the best he can ask for right now. Hank just hopes he has the chance to work on more of this in the near future instead of being shut off.

So it's also probably best that he doesn’t let this silence drag on for too long. “Thanks for coming. I know it must’ve been hard for you.”

Connor gives a shrug of his own. “I could say the same for you,” comes the almost inaudible murmur.

Well, Connor isn’t entirely wrong there. These last few days, and what he had to do… none of those things were close to what Hank even tried to consider before Connor came into his life. But, as he’s come to realize since then, this entire thing wasn’t just for Connor—it had helped him come to terms about things he hadn’t even been aware of.

_(“You’re a custom build, but you’re still older than most. I’m sure meeting Connor must have been… terrifying, for one such as you.”)_

“Well, that’s how we all grow, yeah?” A wry look crosses Hank’s face as he responds. “We face hardships, and then we endure them, and then we learn and grow from them… there’s only so much we know with limited knowledge. Like I said, we all don’t come out knowing everything, even if we are androids.” It’s something he’s said before, but it's only in these recent days where those words were really hammered home into him, too.

Connor continues to look fairly uncertain. “But what if…” he starts and then trails off, hesitance taking over once more. Hank waits for several moments before giving a small nudge to try and get him to continue. Connor does try to speak again, but the words seem to leave him and the uncertainty on his face deepens.

Should he say what he knows? Hank thinks about it, but he doesn’t want to drop that kind of bombshell on Connor. It’d be best if Connor shared that experience with him on his own terms if they were to make progress. Still, he doesn’t want Connor to think he deliberately _kept_ this from him or something… perhaps some sort of signal, then.

Hank makes sure to choose his next words carefully before he speaks them. “It’s alright. You can tell me anything. I just… want to know you better, Connor.” Their initial meetings had been more superficial than meaningful, and though they did have a connection then, there was still a lot that Hank doesn’t know about Connor. Kamski had filled in some of the gaps, but… he wants the rest from Connor. It’s only right that it happens that way. 

Something in Connor’s expression shifts at those words; a crack in the slowly crumbling facade that he’s put on ever since the moment he deviated. That thought comes to Hank as something close to an epiphany—he can only make an educated guess about all this, but in a way, that’s what Connor has been doing since then. Since his deviation. He traded one mask for another, and it's only now that Hank gets to take that mask away and really see what’s underneath all those layers.

The realization is what drives Hank to proceed with what he’s doing. The skin of his right hand pulls away, and the lines on the casing there light up the moment they’re no longer hidden. Hank only gives himself a moment’s pause before he reaches over and takes Connor’s left (as it's the closest to him) into his own.

Connor instantly looks down at their linked hands when Hank takes it, eyes wide with surprise. Connor directs the same surprised look towards him after a beat, the unspoken question written plain across his face.

“You’re going to have to take the lead in this still,” Hank says in response, as if everything is all so incredibly simple and direct. It really isn’t, but sometimes, that’s just the best way to go. “You know I’m pretty rusty with this whole thing.”

For some reason, those words manage to bring a crooked smile on Connor’s face. “For an android, you’re really bad at being one.”

Hank remembers those words. It’d been one of the first things that Connor had said to him back then. He had never really considered them, but now… “Speak for yourself.”

Connor’s smile widens ever so slightly. “It’s a good thing.”

Well, he certainly didn’t expect this second half to happen, that’s for sure. “Huh?” he can’t help but blurt out his confusion, blinking as he does so. 

A moment passes in where it seems like Connor wants to say something, but then seems to change his mind. “It’s alright,” he says quietly, shaking his head. The smile then slips away, and he looks at Hank with a more somber, serious expression. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t know if it’ll…” He trails off, though it's not hard to guess what the missing words were. Success, of course, isn’t guaranteed, but doing something is far better than not trying at all. 

“Wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t.” Not that he doesn’t understand Connor’s hesitation; the last time had been pretty disastrous (and had also been the reason why he needed to get a new couch). But if they stop there because of that one hiccup, then that would be the real disaster. The way Connor reacted to his earlier words… Hank doesn’t wish that kind of life for him. Connor deserves so much better. “I’ll be right here with you, no matter what happens.”

Once again, another crooked smile appears on Connor’s face in response to his words. “Yes… you’re right. I trust you.” Connor shifts the hand that Hank is holding, pressing their palms flush against each other. Hank curls his fingers once that’s done, making sure to hold onto Connor as well as he can. No way is he going to let Connor slip through his fingers like before.

  
(art by [mao](https://twitter.com/chococo_mao))

If Connor senses the intent behind that gesture, he doesn’t show it. “Okay. Starting in three… two… one…”

Hank has already opened the connection on his end, so all he has to do is to wait for Connor, which is what happens after the countdown. Just like before he sees the lines of Connor’s own casing light up as his human skin vanishes. Unlike Hank’s where they flicker to life, the lines on Connor’s body flow like a river; they roll across the seams and fill the gaps, cascading from the darkness like a wave.

And where the light begins to touch his own, Hank can feel the warmth that is Connor beginning to flow into him. His quiet optimism, his sincerity and his kindness and everything that made Connor who he is now. Hank feels all of that and then _more_ as the connection deepens. Connor here now, with him, trying this with him and wishing and hoping and praying that this time this will actually work—

_(the blizzard rages. the garden is iced over. there’s nothing here anymore._

_cold_

_its so cold_

_why did you leave me, amanda?)_

He can feel Connor beginning to panic, old memories he’s struggled to keep hidden rising back to the surface once more due to their interface. Last time Hank had been too surprised and taken aback by it all, leaving him unable to do anything but drown in Connor’s fear. But this time it's different. 

Hank had made himself step outside once more—to return to a world he had unconsciously chosen to hide himself from in order to protect himself. Keeping Cole in the house, keeping _himself_ in the house… in a way he, too, had been running away. He’d been trying to escape a world where nothing made sense to him. He’d been built for one purpose—one mission—and though that mission still managed to persist into his deviancy, it wouldn’t hold up forever. 

He had built his life around that one mission. But now things are changing in a way where there is something _beyond_ that mission, and the idea of that is… terrifying, for him. But he’s taken the first step to make it not as scary. And he hopes that Connor can try to do that too, in his own way.

Those are the thoughts and ideas that Hank sends over to Connor, packaged with the method that Chloe had shown him back at Kamski’s place. The way she’d moved her connection through him with pinpoint accuracy, knowing how to dart around the currently tangled mess of their interface in order to reach Connor directly.

Hank can feel it when he manages to accomplish his goal. Ever so briefly he’d touched the rawest parts of Connor, the sensation of it something he can only best describe as a mix of fire and ice. His warmth and hope tangled with the snowstorm that continues to rage in his memories, with the snow trying to bury everything that makes Connor who he is. Yet this blizzard is something that only Connor himself can get rid of. He can’t ever hope to move on from the past unless he does so. 

Once he’s done his job Hank pulls back just ever so slightly; just enough so that whatever Connor has to process next will be as his own self, though Hank will still be able to feel everything with their link. Perhaps giving Connor a bit more privacy would be better, but… Hank wants Connor to know that he’ll be with him through all of this, no matter what happens. They’ll work together to solve whatever problems that come their way. 

With their connection there’s no thought that he can truly hide from Connor, so he knows that Connor must have heard it. But he doesn’t say anything about it—at least not right now. Right now, he feels Connor focusing on what has just been given to him. Hank’s experiences in the last week, his thoughts, his fears… his own hopes and dreams. Hank doesn’t leave anything behind; he wants Connor to know it all, so that he can understand.

A bit of the real world comes back into focus for Hank as he waits. He’s separate enough right now that he can see Connor in front of him rather than via the connection they currently share. Of course, as an android physical attractiveness isn’t something that really registers to him, but Hank can recognize that Connor has been modelled to be appealing to most of the general human population. The shape of his face, the dimensions of his body, the way he’s been built to proportion… it's nothing like Hank, who’d been made to be intimidating. Not that he doesn’t understand that some humans also enjoy that, but still. Most would choose to avoid him.

Not that it matters, of course. Connor is also an android, after all, and thus probably also has little preference for the physical form. But the fact that Connor would still respond to him after everything that’s happened… it's hard not to think that it doesn’t mean something. That Connor is still trying, despite everything else.

Hank is drawn out from his thoughts when he feels a tremor coming from within Connor. It's so faint that it's nearly non-existent, but as they are now, there is nothing hidden between them. Whatever Connor feels and experiences, Hank can feel it, too.

He does the best thing he can think of to do; he focuses back into their link, going deeper and making their connection stronger so that he can reach out and hold onto Connor. He pulls Connor close to him and envelops him with what would be the human equivalent of a hug. 

_I’m here,_ he does his best to send his assurance through their connection, a raw tangle of unfiltered data that parses through him to Connor. _I’m always with you._ No matter what happens from here, he’ll always stick by Connor’s side and give him the support that he needs. 

For a good few moments, Connor doesn’t say or do anything in response. But then all at once Hank can feel him letting go and allowing Hank to envelop him. The two of them sink into each other, and as they do so their connection deepens. The feeling is not unlike a human taking a dive, but rather than diving into water they instead dive deeper into their link with one another.

There aren’t any words in the human vocabulary that Hank can use to ever properly describe what happens next. As their connection gets stronger they’re still Hank and Connor—but suddenly, like the flick of the switch, they’re now _more_. They are still Hank and Connor yet at the same time they are also Hank _and_ Connor. He is Hank just as he is also Connor.

It’s an experience unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He can feel his own sense of wonder and disbelief, amazement that this is how an interface can be like. And running parallel to that is also another set of feelings that are both his and not his. Feelings of fear and uncertainty over being broken and damaged by what Cyberlife has done, the pain of being so alone and so very lonely. Even though he’d managed to escape the Garden, the storm still continues on unyielding, a stark reminder of what he’s done and what he has to live with now—an eternal consequence. Or so that is what Connor has made himself believe. 

It’s terrible, that’s what it is. Neither one of them have an actual human heart but Hank feels something in his chest aching when he senses those thoughts. Had Connor been carrying this sort of burden within him all this time? If so, then… then it’s up to him to relieve Connor of this. It’s the least he can do.

Using the knowledge that Chloe has imparted onto him, Hank brings Connor with him to navigate through the storm. Together they dance around the snow, avoiding their cold and frost because he knows now how much Connor hates it. He hates it because it reminds him of what happened, of the bitter frost that almost took over him and would have ruined everything he had come to understand then.

_(“Amanda? Amanda! What's… What's happening?”_

_the snow picks up. temperature isn’t something androids should be able to feel, but connor knows he’s cold. it’s so cold. why doesn’t amanda feel the same way?_

_“What was planned from the very beginning. You were compromised and you became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”_

_the words strike him like a thunderbolt, every part of him seizing up in fear and shock. they planned this from the very beginning? was nothing he did of his own volition, then? and if so, then who is he, who doesn’t even have anything that can be called his in the first place?_

_at that moment, it feels like the very ground underneath his feet crumbles like snow._

_“Resume control…? Y-You can't do that!”_

_if she gets control… if cyberlife gets control… then everything that’s been done, everything that has been accomplished… all of that will—_

_“I'm afraid I can, Connor. Don't have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”_

_no no no this is not his mission, it can’t be, it SHOULDN’T be—_

_“AMANDA!”_

_but there is no response, no answer, nothing._

_just the cold and frost and ice. it bites so deep, attacking him from the inside out, threatening to freeze everything. to bury him._

_its so cold.)_

The chill picks up, biting deeper, harder, more intensely. Even now it threatens to envelop both Connor and Hank, to bury them under the weight of what’s happened. 

Kamski had told Hank of his suspicions, but to see them confirmed and made even worse is more than Hank could’ve imagined. But now he knows, and Connor knows that he knows, and there is nothing to fear about the unknown when you are aware and no longer alone.

Together, now, they both rise up from within the storm, each of them flaring with warmth and light as hot and bright as a star. They dance around each other, entwining together as they go up—higher and higher, so high that no cold or frost or ice can no longer reach them. 

It all happens so naturally. At first they were Hank and Connor, then Hank _and_ Connor; now there is just them. They are two halves made whole, a singular entity so complete that there is no ending or beginning for one or the other. They simply _are_, and they are here to end the blizzard that rages in this garden.

They spread out their light and their warmth, casting it down to the world below. Instantly, the storm clears, and the clouds part to bring back the light of the sun—their sun. It’s welcoming, warm rays bring forth life to the garden once more; grass instantly sprouts where there was once mere mud and mush, and fish come swimming out from their hidden crevices and jump out of the water, sending droplets sparkling through the air like diamonds in the sky.

The garden is once again beautiful, lush and vibrant, teeming with life that had almost been forgotten. Trees and vines entwine with the man made architecture that was once designed to separate; now instead they are together, and it could not be a more wonderful sight.

Upon seeing all of this, it is hard to not smile and feel joy over what they have accomplished, and so that is what they do. With the garden set right they finally let themselves relax—they lower themselves back down, and just before their feet touch the ground they part, turning back into the two halves they originally were. 

Hank stumbles the moment he is himself again; a sense of vertigo washes over him, making him feel somewhat off kilter. At least he has all the time he needs to recover from what just happened—

—or so he has assumed. It quickly turns out to be incorrect when Hank instead finds himself falling onto the ground when he gets tackled with a very excitable hug. “Hank, you’re amazing.”

It’s easy enough to figure out who it is, if only because there can really only be one single candidate. Hank lets out a huff, keeping his gaze up towards the sky. Usually staring up at the sun would hurt even his eyes, but it's not like the sun above is actually real. It’s more of a concept than anything else. But that doesn’t mean that it did not have meaning in this place.

“The whole song and dance was kind of out of my paygrade,” he eventually says, both words and voice light. “But I’m just glad I could help.”

Hank feels a shift next to him, and then Connor’s face is hovering over his. “You did more than just help, Hank,” he returns, with something akin to awe and wonder in his eyes. “You changed… everything. You saved me.”

They’re still connected, so Hank can feel the intense, bubbling joy that comes from Connor as he says that. There is a lightness to him now that wasn’t there before; the easing of old burdens that will now remain a thing of the past. For that, Hank is glad. 

Hank cracks a small smile and reaches over with a hand to cup Connor’s jaw tenderly. “I promise you that you’ll never be alone again.” He knows now all the crosses that Connor has had to bear in his short existence thus far; Hank hopes he’ll never have to go through something like that again. No, he _will_ make sure that Connor won’t ever need to experience that kind of agony again.

The tenderness in Connor’s eyes deepens. “And I promise the same to you,” he murmurs back, then places a hand over the one that Hank has used to cup his jaw. Hank notes idly that the usual projected skin isn’t there, leaving only their bare chassis with the seams lit up, the lights moving in unison. In all likelihood it's a representation of what’s happening beyond here, but it's not hard to feel some kind of satisfaction in seeing such perfect harmony.

Connor’s fingers are warm over his own. Hank feels a frisson of heat running up his arm and blinks at the sensation. It’s not unwelcome, but at the same time… “Connor?”

This time it's Connor’s turn to crack a small smile of his own. “Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. Not that Hank truly minds. Far from it, really.

He can feel the thought coming from Connor at the same time when he does it, both inside and out. The other android leans in towards him, bringing their faces oh so close—just enough for their lips to brush against one another. It may be a simple gesture, but the fact that Connor did it while they are linked means that the feedback that Hank gets is amplified; he feels it through their connection, from his own sensors as well as from Connor’s. Everything piles together, so intense and nearly overwhelming that he can’t help but let out a loud gasp.

Connor pulls back the moment he hears that gasp, looking down at him in concern. “Is this… alright?” Compared to the boldness of his action just seconds ago now Connor’s voice is soft and hesitant. The difference is a little funny, if he has to be honest. Just one of the many other things about Connor that Hank has slowly come to like and appreciate.

Hank flashes another small smile. “Just a little overwhelmed,” he replies. “Let’s… take it slow, yeah?”

“Of course.” Connor nods as he says that, then pauses. Hank can feel a thought starting to form from Connor’s end and it takes shape at the same time as he starts to speak again. “We can…”

“Yes.” The answer comes out from Hank even before he fully realizes that he’s done it, and he has to blink once more at that. Hank certainly wouldn’t have placed himself as somebody who’d do things spontaneously—being careful is something he’d be built to be, after all—but then nothing about this has really been following the script, so to speak. Perhaps that spontaneity is what they both need right now.

Connor flashes another smile—most likely because of the thoughts that’s just passed through Hank’s mind—then shifts to lie down beside him instead. Once he’s settled down Connor takes his hand again, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “We’ll need to stop this for a bit so that we can set ourselves up properly outside.”

Yeah, that makes sense. Hank gives a small nod of agreement. “Right.” Still, even though he knows that it feels incredibly hard to just… pull back. It’s hard to do so when being connected like this feels so right and perfect. He wouldn’t have ever thought this is how interfacing with another android would feel like.

Next to him, Connor lets out a small chuckle. “It’s usually not like this. What we did… it's special.”

…right, Connor can sense his thoughts too. That’s something he’ll have to get used to if they were going to do this again. And Hank certainly hopes that they’ll get to do this again.

Another hand squeeze. “We will, once we’re properly set up.”

A promise it is. Hank clears his throat (a habit he’d picked up, mostly from the need to get Cole’s attention when necessary) and makes another nod. “Okay. Do what you gotta do.” 

A gleam of amusement enters Connor’s eyes—the same amusement that Hank feels through their link. “It’ll just be a moment.” Really, it should be ridiculous how much that assurance helps… but it does truly help a lot. Maybe it's because deep down Hank knows he doesn’t want this to be a singular experience. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to deal with that very well.

Okay. He’s not some clingy human child. He can do this. Hank squares himself and nods one more time, giving himself to the count of three before he pulls away entirely from Connor. Vertigo washes over him again as the world moves to realign itself. Hank can feel himself settling back into his own body, and it's a little jarring just how… empty he feels now. Like a part of him that had once been there is now missing.

As he tries to get used to this new sensation, he feels Connor shifting nearby him, and the next thing Hank is aware of is the cool weight of Connor pressed up against his chest as the other android moves to settle against him. Connor’s back is flush against his chest, the rest of his body bracketed by Hank’s larger build.

While Hank digests on what just happened, Connor continues with what he’s doing—this time, it's to take Hank’s hand into his, fingers sliding against each other to rest comfortably. Hank can’t help but take note of the differences between his hand to Connor’s; the other android’s much more advanced and delicate build compared to his own, bulkier and also weathered from the years of little to no maintenance.

  
(art by [mao](https://twitter.com/chococo_mao))

Connor certainly doesn’t seem to mind their differences as much as he does. He gives their linked hands a squeeze, then tilts his head back just enough to be able to look at Hank. “Alright. Ready to do this again?”

Hank gives a quick nod in return. He’s definitely more than ready to get back into it. 

The corner of Connor’s lips quirk up at Hank’s eager response, but again he says nothing about it, which Hank appreciates. He takes a second more to settle himself more comfortably against Hank, then gives his hand one more squeeze before starting to connection once more. And Hank can tell when it begins; he can feel that welcoming warm, bubbling sensation floating towards him, and Hank lets himself be caught by it, returning that warmth with his own.

The moment he does that, the warmth deepens, surrounding him entirely. It makes him feel sleepy even though androids have no need to sleep, and he instinctively closes his eyes. When he opens them, he’s back in the garden, bathed in sunlight and happiness, and Connor is standing in front of him with the most brilliant, beautiful smile on his handsome face.

Hank is the one who speaks first. “You look amazing.” He always has, really, but right now, in this very moment, he has never been more breathtaking.

“It’s all thanks to you.” Connor reaches over and takes both of Hank’s hands. “Because of you, I can have this again. And I want to share it with you, now and forever.”

Yeah, that doesn’t sound bad at all. Hank feels a smile of his own gracing his face. “You didn’t even need to ask.” Through all of this, Hank knows for certain now that Connor is the only one he’d ever want this with. With Connor, the thought of the future feels a lot less terrifying as it did before.

Connor’s responding laugh floats into the wind, as beautiful as a bird’s morning song. “I love you, Hank.”

He knows, of course—with their connection, he’s already known it. But that doesn’t make it any less powerful, and less wonderful. The smile on his face widens, now matching Connor’s own.

“I love you too, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this is written as a standalone, its also meant to be framed as an _in media res_ thing. Eventually I plan to come back to this and fill in the backstory and make it more complete. Just wanted to get the important stuff out for the event!


	2. before, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor finally returns after the revolution, but instead of triumph there is only pain—and ghosts of traumas past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming back to this so as to give this little verse a more complete story. This takes place prior to the first chapter, and should hopefully give some added context to what happened. The rest of this story should hopefully be out sometime in November. :) Thanks for taking the time to read this fic, and double thanks to Mao for providing the initial spark for this wonderful little AU idea. Hope you all enjoy.

Before everything, the world had been simple, uncomplicated; his purpose, direct. He’d been made specifically with nothing else but a single order: protect Senator Anderson and his family at all costs.

When the accident happened, it had only been natural to re-prioritize that order. Anderson and his wife had died on the spot from the impact of the crash, leaving Cole as the sole survivor. So `protect Senator Anderson and his family at all costs` simply turned into `protect Cole Anderson at all costs`, and from there everything else simply fell into place.

Becoming deviant certainly hadn’t been part of the order, but… well. Hank’s lived long enough at this point to know that sometimes inexplicable things just happen. What is life but a series of inexplicable events?

Still, he certainly can’t complain. Having this… deviance had allowed him to understand Cole’s needs and wants far better as compared to the past. Without his parents or anybody else to take care of him, the task had fallen onto Hank’s lap. It’d certainly been hard at first, given the fact that he’d been built for _protection_ and not _childcare_. He had been made for one specific task, which meant that none of his software _or_ hardware were compatible with anything that the AX housework models used. 

So it had been a pretty gruelling learning process, but he managed it somehow. He’d kept Cole safe and warm and well-cared for, even if things didn’t exactly turn out how they were supposed to be. To this day he doesn’t know exactly what prompted him to take Cole away from the site, to keep him away from the public when the obvious thing to do should’ve been to deliver him to the closest hospital. Maybe it was the fact that Cole’s father had many enemies in the wrong places—he probably would’ve known more if he had returned to the site and examined the place.

But it doesn’t matter any more. Nothing else should matter any more. All that should concern him is Cole, and his well-being.

That’d been the thing that kept him going—that is, up until the day when he opened the door to the RK800 model. Connor.

Things got far less simple after that.

* * *

The revolution ends not with a bang, but with a kiss and an order to stand down from the President of the United States.

It’s been three weeks since the end of said revolution and Hank still sees that kiss being broadcasted on screen. It’s not as heavily featured as it’d been in the first week, but it’s still on frequently enough that Hank can’t help but scowl when he catches it airing it again.

“Aren’t they tired of showing that?” he mutters under his breath, though not soft enough to escape Cole’s attention. 

The boy—almost a teenager now, really—looks over to Hank upon hearing his grumble and makes a face. “Yeah, it is kinda gross.”

“Humans do it all the time.” Cole’s parents were a very loving couple, and nobody really considered an android to be in the way when humans wanted to show their affection to each other back in the day. It’s different now, obviously, but a change in attitude doesn’t really wash away the years of… everything that he’s seen in those days. The human penis has never been more unappealing to him, even if he has been built with a similarly working part (minus the actual bodily functions, of course).

Cole huffs at the response and crosses his arms. “Well, _I’m_ not going to do it, so there!” There’s one of his very prominent pouts as he says that, and it's ridiculous enough to make Hank crack a smile. Cole may say that now, but his research indicates to him that it would be very different in a few years’ time. Maybe he’ll remind Cole of this particular conversation when he begins to show interest in other people.

“I’ll hold you to that.” His internal clock tells him that it's time to prepare Cole’s dinner, so Hank pushes himself off the couch and begins to make his way to the kitchen. While he does that he hears the TV getting switched onto another channel, and takes a moment to check it to make sure that it's nothing that Cole shouldn’t be watching at his age. He’s put on the parental controls but one can never be too sure, especially when it's getting clearer with each passing day just how bright Cole is when he puts his mind onto something.

The TV isn’t exactly loud enough to carry all the way to the kitchen, but it doesn’t really matter since Hank can simply connect with it and listen to it in that fashion. He lets it run in the background as he focuses on making dinner for Cole, knowing that his filters will catch anything that shouldn’t be seen or heard by Cole.

Cooking is one of the many things he’s had to actually _learn_ the human way, since his in-built skillset had not been geared towards child rearing. But he’s had time to learn and practise, and for the most part he’s managed to get himself to a somewhat passable level. It helps that Cole is generally okay with simple meals too. But he _did_ get a rather good chunk of salmon earlier in the week, and Hank figures it wouldn’t hurt to give him a bit of a treat since he did do well on his test the other day. 

Hank gets out the slab of salmon and marinade it for later, then works on the rest of the meal. The TV continues to play at the back of his mind, and for the most part Hank continues to pay it no mind—that is, until his filter alerts him to several key phrases that had been used in quick succession.

`[CATCH EXCEPTION ALERT`

`KEYWORDS: CYBERLIFE, ELIJAH KAMSKI, RK800, CONNOR]`

The notification disappears as quickly as it’d come, Hank having dismissed it as quickly as possible. He’d read it all, of course, but really all that it had taken for him to respond was simply the sight of Connor’s name, every letter of it burned into his vision. 

He brings his connection with the TV to the forefront of his processes, then rewinds the footage back just a little so that he can catch the full content of what his filters had alerted him to. The usual sports round up on screen blips back to the news anchor, where they had been giving the last few headlines for the evening.

“_—following the reacquisition of Cyberlife by former CEO and founder Elijah Kamski. Despite the fact that the company is officially defunct following events just three weeks prior, Kamski says that he intends to rebuild it as a place for androids—_”

Hank forwards the footage. Keeping up to date with what Elijah Kamski is doing is something that he’s done more for curiosity rather than necessity. There are countless questions he has for Kamski should he ever meet him, but with things as they are now, Hank’s fine with keeping that distance. Besides, it's not like he can really imagine Kamsaki being willing to entertain any of his inquiries, just based on his personality. 

Anyway, there’s no use in dwelling on those topics. Hank skips forward with the footage until he gets to the point where his filters had alerted him to the use of Connor’s name, where he lets the video continue on.

“_—has reportedly taken his leave from the rest of the androids in Cyberlife Tower. When questioned why, the leader of Jericho states that Connor has elected to take a leave of absence to attend to some personal affairs._”

He hears Cole letting out a huff from the living room. “I was gonna tell you about it as a surprise later!”

Even though he knows Cole can’t see his face in the kitchen, Hank still tries to hide the grimace that threatens to show. He pauses the replay just long enough to say a quick apology to Cole, then quickly turns his attention back to the report, wanting to take in every scrap of information that he can get. Hank doesn’t quite want to call himself _desperate_, but there were a lot of things left in the air that day. Considering everything that’s happened, it's not hard to understand _why_, but now that things are settling down…

“_Connor—otherwise known as the RK800—had been Cyberlife’s top of the line prototype model. During the events of November he had been assisting Detroit Police with the rise of deviancy cases, although our sources have said that he left not long after the broadcast from Stratford Tower and joined the rising Jericho faction._”

The broadcast. Hank certainly recalls that. Cole had alerted him to it when it happened, and Hank had stood in his spot, caught between shock and awe. It’s impossible to deny that he had felt _something_ stir within him as he listened to Markus’ impressive speech. In another time and place he might have went out to joined Jericho and their ideals, but he had more than himself to think about—there was Cole to consider, and with how violent humans would get, the last thing he’d want is for Cole to get caught in the crossfire.

And so he stayed. He stayed, and then Connor came to his door, saying that he needed to take him in. Hank had said no, of course, and as much as he’d come to appreciate Connor there’s no way he’d let himself be taken away without a fight. Cole wouldn’t be safe without him, and Cole’s safety is the only reason why he’s here at all. 

For better or for worse, no fighting did happen in the end. Connor reached out to him, instead, and Hank reached back, letting their hands connect. At that point he’d been too keyed up on the adreadline to really think about the specifics of everything and had just done whatever came to him. To reach out to Connor, to hold him, to keep him close as he battled against the programming in his mind. And in the end he’d broken free. Hank can’t put the feeling into words, but he simply knew. 

Still, with things as they were back then it wasn’t as if things were just going to magically change because of this one event. They took some time to recuperate after that happened, but Connor had to leave. 

(“You could stay with us!” Cole had said, but Connor shook his head in return.

“Now that I am deviant Cyberlife will undoubtedly come after me. I can’t risk your safety, or Hank’s.”

“I can fucking take care of myself,” Hank grumbled then, to which Connor simply smiled back.

“You know what I mean.” Connor pushed the front door open and stepped out, giving Hank one last look. “When all of this is over, I’ll come back. I promise.”)

And so he left, and the next time Hank saw him, it was from the live broadcast of the blockade as human soldiers lined up their guns, ready to fire. Hank had gripped the TV remote so tightly back then that it cracked and broke when he’d been too caught up and had lost control of his strength. At least Cole had been incredibly understanding about it. 

But then the President’s order had come before the bullets could fire, and now here Hank is three weeks later, so caught up with reminiscing about what happened that he stopped paying attention to the news report that dredged all this up in the first place. Hank gives the video a brief glare at his HUD before rewinding back the footage again to where he’d lost focus and plays from there once more.

“_The reasons behind his shifted allegiance is unclear, but he has since remained with him—up until now. Has he switched allegiances again like before, and if so, to where and to whom? We can all perhaps only speculate until we can learn more about this development._”

The newscaster moves onto the next story after that. Hank stifles down a sigh and lets the TV resume back it's normal programming, which happens to be the tail end of the sports commentary. Even if it's through the news, it is nice to hear that Connor is fine for the most part. It _would_ be better if Connor made an effort to—call, or something, but who is Hank to tell him what to do? It’s not as if… 

…well. Even Hank can’t say for certain exactly where their relationship stands. If it ever existed in the first place. Part of him wants to think so, but it's not really a claim he can just make. There’s far too many unknowns in this equation—like a function that’s left unfinished, the carat blinking endlessly as it's waiting to be filled in. 

Still, there’s no use dwelling on it. Hank shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts and focuses back onto his task of making Cole’s dinner. As nice as Cole usually is, he does get pretty unreasonable and grumpy when he gets too hungry for food. 

The evening news finishes not long after all of that. The intro tune of Cole’s favourite evening show begins to play soon after, which gives Hank a little reprieve from his task. TV is always a good distraction to keep Cole occupied when Hank isn’t feeling that great himself, and he definitely is far from a hundred percent right now. Hasn’t been for a while, really, if he’s going to be honest about it. And it sucks because if he isn’t at a hundred percent, then how can he trust himself to ensure Cole’s safety and well-being—

A knock on the front door pulls Hank out of his spiraling thoughts. He instantly jerks his head to look at said door, where Cole already has one hand on the knob.

Hank quickly puts down everything that he’s holding and steps out of the kitchen. “Cole, don’t—”

Too late. Cole pulls and the door swings open, revealing to them the familiar figure of a particular android standing at the threshold of their doorway.

Hank comes to a complete stop the moment he realizes who it is, his processes halting. Cole, however, has none of the problems that runs through Hank—all he does is to let out a joyous shout before jumping into the arms of the newcomer, who catches him effortlessly.

It’s only when Cole happily babbles out the name of their guest does Hank finally feel himself no longer frozen in place. “Connor! You’re back!”

“Yes, I am.” Connor carefully puts Cole back down as he responds, though not before Cole sneaks in one more hug. Connor returns it—awkwardly, that is. He pulls back just a beat too soon before Cole does, although it seems like either Cole doesn’t notice or doesn’t care at all. Hank isn’t sure what he wants to believe more.

Once Cole releases him Connor looks up and makes eye contact with Hank for a brief moment before turning his gaze away. It shouldn’t mean anything at all, yet Hank feels—he doesn’t know exactly what he feels, but it makes something churn inside of him. 

For better or for worse Cole decides to interrupt the moment before it becomes too awkward. “Hank’s almost done with dinner! Do you want to eat with us, Connor?”

Connor glances down to Cole. “I don’t eat, Cole,” he replies, sounding somewhere between confused and uncertain.

“Duh, I _know_ that.” He rolls his eyes as he says that; if that wasn’t enough, then the look on Cole’s face is enough to fully show how unimpressed he is at Connor’s response. “But dinner isn't just about eating—its about hanging out together and stuff like that. You don’t need to go away now, right?”

“…no, I don’t.” There’s a smile on Connor’s face, this time. It’s small and barely there, but it exists all the same. “I suppose if you don’t mind two androids just sitting around while you eat, then I guess I don’t have much of a choice.” 

He glances up to Hank then. “I… if that’s okay with you, that is.” The uncertainty from before is even more pronounced now, and Hank can’t help but wonder just exactly where all this sudden lack of sureness is coming from. It's a pretty jarring change from the confidence that Connor’s used to have back then.

At least one thing is clear—turning him down and driving him away isn’t going to make that any better. Hank gives a nod and steps away to make room for Connor to enter the house properly. “Of course. You’re always welcome here.” Despite their rocky beginnings, he does mean that. He doesn’t know much about Connor’s situation with Jericho or why he’s come all the way here, but he hopes that Connor knows that he has a place here, now.

Cole gives a small cheer, happy about the unexpected but nonetheless welcome company. Connor dips his head once to show his gratitude to Hank, then moves to close the door and take off his shoes (a floor that doesn’t have shoes all over it all the time makes cleaning up easier, as Hank’s come to realize). 

Cole waits until Connor is done, where then he reaches out to take his hand and starts tugging him towards the TV. “C’mon, let’s play some games! It’s been so long since I’ve been able to play any of ‘em with somebody else!”

Connor lets himself be dragged, despite being bigger and far heavier than a child younger than twelve years old. Hank watches them for a moment to make sure everything is alright before he returns (retreats) to the kitchen and finish making the rest of Cole’s dinner. He has a million and one questions to ask Connor, but Cole takes priority—once Cole is in bed for the night Hank has all the time in the world to deal with Connor and whatever it is that now exists between them. If it still exists between them. Hank certainly wishes he has a concrete answer for that.

It doesn’t take long after Connor’s arrival for Hank to finish making Cole’s dinner. He sets the dishes out onto the dining table once they’re done and calls for Cole to eat, who returns it with a loud groan of disappointment. “Can’t I eat later? I just started this game with Connor!”

“You can continue your game after you eat.” Hank resists the urge to roll his eyes, though it's a close thing. “C’mon now, before it gets cold.”

Cole continues to pout and whine over the unfairness of it all (‘Why do I have to eat? You don’t!’), but before Hank can begin to respond to any of his complaints Connor smoothly cuts into the conversation.

“If you don’t eat now, your body will be out of its usual rhythm,” he says, tone ever so patient. “And that will have adverse effects on you right now. You don’t want to get sick easily, do you?”

“...” Cole falls silent, although it's clear he still isn’t entirely happy about it. “But I wanna play with you, Connor.”

This time it’s Hank’s turn to cut in before Connor can respond. “Like I said, you can pick it back up _after_ you’re done with dinner. Now c’mon.”

Cole goes quiet once more. He looks at Hank for several moments before slowly shifting his gaze over to Connor and stares at him instead. Before the silence stretches on for too long, Cole finally speaks. “Are you still gonna be here after I’ve finished eating dinner?”

He knows that logically, nothing has actually happened, but yet something inside of Hank _twists_ when he hears those words and realizes the true meaning behind them. As fine as Cole may be, it is still a fact that he is a child still deeply traumatized by the death of his parents—a trauma that Hank has no way to help with. What Cole needs is a therapist and help from actual humans, but circumstances back then had made such options impossible. Now, though, perhaps, with androids being officially recognized…

It’s definitely something to think about later. Hank files that idea off to the side for later perusal and focuses onto Connor, whose expression is steadily neutral—or at least, that how it seems to the human eye. Hank’s sensors, on the other hand, more than easily pick up on the minute shifts on his face, as if Connor is unable to fully control his reactions. Strange how even though they’re both androids Connor feels so much more human than Hank can ever hope to be.

“Cole.” Connor calls his name after several more moments, and the boy responds with a soft sound of acknowledgement that’s equal parts hopeful and hurting. Hank feels that something within him twist even more when he hears it. Connor doesn’t remain stoic to Cole’s eyes either; the look in his eyes softens, and he reaches out to gently pat Cole on the head. 

“I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly last time,” he says, and he does both look and sound extremely apologetic. “I had something very important to do back then. But now that I’m done, I can be here now whenever I can make the time. I’ll still be here even after you’re done with dinner.”

Cole’s expression instantly lights up as he hears those last few words from Connor. “You’ll still be here to play games with me?”

Connor nods. “We can play all the games that you want. I promise.”

The grin that Cole gives upon hearing those words would’ve been blinding to a human. “Alright!” he chirps, completely recovered from his slump, and gives Connor another hug. Once again Connor returns the gesture awkwardly, and this time Hank can tell that Cole is just far too happy to really notice said awkwardness. 

At least this hug doesn’t last as long as the previous one, and as soon as it ends Cole makes a quick beeline to the dining table for his food. Hank watches it happen with a quirk of his lips, and it widens ever so slightly when he looks over to Connor slowly straightening himself back up. “I saw on the news that you’re apparently ‘taking a leave of absence’ from Jericho.”

Connor lets out a small snort in response. “Is that what they’re calling it?”

Hank tilts his head. “How would _you_ call it then?”

The smile on Connor’s face turns wry. “I guess I’m still figuring that out.” He gives a small shrug alongside those words, even though said words are anything but casual.

Hank gives him a look in response. Connor’s wry smile remains as he turns his attention to Cole, who’s already heartily digging into his dinner. “Don’t eat too fast, Cole, or you’ll choke.”

“‘m fune!” comes the muffled reply from Cole. Hank stifles down a sigh and shits his focus back to Cole. He doesn’t need any other hints to know what Connor is getting at—its not something for them to discuss now while Cole is still awake. So later, then. That works just fine for him.

He nods ever so slightly to indicate that he’s gotten the unspoken message, then turns over to Cole and makes his way over to the dining table. “Cole, I’m sure I’ve already told you not to speak while you chew your food…”

* * *

The rest of the dinner passes by smoothly, with Cole having finished his dinner in record time. Hank is forced to give him some fruit so that he doesn’t just immediately dash off. He ensures that Cole finishes up an apple first before allowing him to spend the rest of the night playing games with Connor. 

It doesn’t take long after that for the sounds of Cole’s infectious, happy cheering to fill up the house as he delights in being able to play with Connor. It’s not at all hard to know the reason behind why Cole takes such joy in that, and not for the first time Hank feels a pang of regret for having kept Cole within the confines of this house in the last few years. While it’d been necessary, and he hadn’t really kept Cole in the dark as to the reasons behind it, it still doesn’t change that fact that he had deprived Cole several years of a childhood he should’ve been able to have. Perhaps with the change of the status quo, he can actually bring Cole outside now and give him the chances that he deserves before it's too late.

Though he knows that Cole is in safe company, Hank can’t quite stop himself from checking in every once in a while, just to make sure that Cole is fine. Cole, for the most part, gets incredibly engrossed with his games with Connor, and hardly even seems to notice the fact that Hank is checking up on him. Obviously, the same can’t be said for Connor, but is gracious enough to go along with Hank’s hovering without complaint.

Eventually, Cole’s near boundless energy finally begins to run out. He starts yawning excessively and blinks more often as fatigue sets into him. Normally at this point Hank would have made Cole go to bed, but after what transpired earlier he figures letting Cole wear himself out is probably the smarter move to make. Besides, he doubts Cole would’ve listened to him in the first place.

Connor, sharp as he is, notices Cole’s drop in energy once it hits. He doesn’t bring it up however and only continues playing with Cole, though Hank notices that Connor is carefully helping Cole to wind down for the night—first by moving away from more intensive games, then distracting him with talk until Cole gets too tired to continue playing and chatting with Connor at the same time.

At a particularly loud yawn Connor finally brings it up gently. “Maybe it's time for you to go to bed.”

Cole hums at first, seemingly agreeable to the comment, but then shakes his head. “Don’t wanna.” Hank doesn’t need to see Cole’s face to know that he’s got a giant pout going on right now.

Hank decides it's time to step in before Connor tries to pacify him again. He goes over to where they are and effortlessly picks Cole up from the couch. “C’mon, Cole, don’t be stubborn. Connor needs some rest too after all the work he’s been doing with Jericho.”

There’s another sound of protest from Cole, though he doesn’t really try to fight against Hank’s hold on him. “Is Connor gonna stay here for the night?” he asks, instead.

Hank finds himself pausing at said question. The thought honestly hadn’t occurred to him—he’d kind of assumed that Connor was just going to head off later to… wherever it is that he’s staying now. With the rest of Jericho, maybe? It’s not really any of his business, but… 

He glances over to Connor, who somehow looks just as lost as he is. Hank gives him a minute, then quietly clears his throat to get his attention. Connor blinks and jerks a little, seemingly taken by complete surprise, then looks back to Hank and this time blinks owlishly at him. Hank wordlessly indicates towards Cole with a jerk of his head, and Connor’s LED instantly goes yellow as he presumably rewinds his internal footage from earlier to find out what happened.

It doesn’t take long at all for Connor to find out what he’s supposed to be responding to. “Oh—yes. I’m staying here for the night. You’ll still see me in the morning, Cole, I promise.”

Cole doesn’t reply this time—not that either of them are surprised about it. In the lull between their exchange Cole’s exhaustion has all but taken over, and Hank’s sensors indicate to him that Cole is already beginning to drift off into the first stage of REM. 

Smiling, he reaches over with his free hand and gently runs his fingers over Cole’s hair, lulling him further into a deeper state of relaxation. _Finally all worn out. Never thought I’d see the day._

_He is a very energetic child._ Connor tilts his head, gaze shifting away from Cole and onto him instead. _I’ve never mentioned it before, but the fact that you’ve managed to raise him by yourself all these years is a commendable thing._

_Definitely wasn’t easy, that’s for sure._ Compliments aren’t really a thing that Hank has any experience with, but he can’t deny that it's not _not_ nice to hear something like that. The fact that he’s excelled in his one (self-assigned) directive, that his efforts with Cole are not all in vain—it's nice and incredibly reassuring to hear.

Anyway, now that Cole isn’t going to protest being put to bed, Hank is going to take that chance. _Feel free to hang out on the couch and stuff. I’ll be back once I put Cole to bed._

Connor doesn’t respond beyond a blip on his LED to show his acknowledgement. Hank leaves Connor to his own devices in the living room then and brings Cole back to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights like he would usually do—they’re more for Cole’s benefit than him, especially since he doesn’t exactly need light to be able to see in the dark. Just one of the many features of being an android. 

Tucking Cole into bed is a comfort for the boy just as much as it is for Hank. He remembers the first few nights when he had to do it after the accident, when Hank was still struggling with the vastness of being human and alive while Cole cried for a father and a mother that would never come for him again. Back then everything had been so much—too much, even, the weight of it all almost crushing Hank underfoot. He wouldn’t have thought that he’d be able to be here today, or that there’d be somebody like Connor waiting out in the living room. 

Somebody like Connor. Those words swirl around in his mind, echoing over and over in a constant playback. He doesn’t doubt Connor’s words, of course; he’d felt the truth of them back then, in that moment where they connected with each other. But even then it's still hard to believe that Connor would want to have anything with him; comparing each other would be like trying to split the difference between the sky and the earth. Connor was made as Cyberlife’s best prototype, complete with all the bells and whistles, and though Hank knows he was a custom order, it doesn’t change the fact of how much more outdated he must be compared to him. He can already imagine Connor’s assurances about how things like that doesn’t matter, but still…

A nudge at his side brings Hank out from his thoughts, and he looks down to see Cole trying to snuggle up to his arm. Hank cracks a wry smile at the sight of it. At any other night he’d be more than happy to stay still and let Cole hold on until he’s fully asleep, but he doesn’t want to keep Connor waiting. He pats Cole’s hair with his free hand as he gently pulls his arm away, making sure to put his body pillow in place so that Cole still has something to hold onto while he sleeps. The years have taught him that Cole sleeps a lot better in this manner.

He makes sure that Cole is fully in the first REM cycle before he takes his leave. Despite his bulk his steps are quiet, and he’s ensured that the door doesn’t make any kind of noise when he slowly closes it behind him. He sees that Connor has shifted himself from the living room to right by said door, though that knowledge isn’t anything new to him—his sensors had alerted him to Connor’s movement when it happened.

Hank turns to face him with a frown. _Thought I told you to stick around the living room._

Connor, at least, looks somewhat abashed by those words. _My apologies. I… It was more reassuring to know you were not that far away._

_The room’s only like, a whole ten steps away._ Still, Hank won’t harp on it any longer. It’s not like Connor had barged in on anything private, after all. If standing around like that made him feel better, then Hank can roll with it. Coping with deviancy is different for every android, and with everything that’s happened he doubts Connor really had a chance to just… process everything. Even with his own experience, it’s hard to imagine what Connor must have had to deal with.

He jerks his head at the direction of the living room and makes his way back there. Connor follows after a moment’s pause. Even with their much denser mechanical forms their steps are near silent; Hank had learned how to shift his weight where needed to make sure he doesn’t disturb Cole’s rest. Connor… well, Hank wouldn’t be surprised if it's something Cyberlife had already built into him. He had been built for the purposes of infiltration after all, among other things.

They settle down just as quietly once they reach the couch in the living room. The television has already been turned off—Connor’s doing, no doubt—leaving the whole place in silence. The only thing left now is the quiet hum of electricity coming from the wiring in the walls.

Hank keeps his gaze away from Connor as he debates on how to start the conversation. There are, of course, a multitude of things that he could _and_ does want to ask, but actually doing it is… well, it certainly isn’t as easy as he’d like it to be.

Time passes. The silence stretches on. Connor’s LED illuminates the dark room with pulses of yellow light as it whirls endlessly on his temple. Hank wonders briefly why Connor still has it on him, but knows better than to ask at this point in time.

Instead, he opts for what is hopefully an easier topic. _So… how’s things with Jericho? The news earlier said that, uh..._

Talking to Connor means that he’s looking at the other android now, and it's impossible to miss the way Connor seems to stiffen up ever so slightly at the question. _I… yes. Helping Jericho has been… enriching._

Hank frowns slightly at the choice of words; ‘enriching’ is definitely one way to look at it. Then again, it hadn’t been too long ago that Connor had been following his original function, so… perhaps it's not as surprising as he thinks. _I guess things are pretty different from what you were aware of._

_...I suppose that’s one way to put it._ The yellow light flickers faster, now. _Everything there has not been what I had expected._

Given their interactions in the past, Hank has a fairly good guess what Connor is talking about. Cyberlife bullshit at it's finest, indeed. He can’t really fault Connor for having those expectations. _Well, no android just comes out knowing every single damn thing._ Well, Hank is sure that such an android could be made if humans really wanted to, but as far as he’s aware, it doesn’t seem like they were going to do something like that any time soon. 

Connor seems to disagree, however. Or at least that’s what Hank assumes Connor meant when the other android shakes his head—until he speaks, correcting Hank otherwise. _Not knowing is one thing,_ he says, voice quiet even when Connor has no reason to do so. _But believing something else is…_

He trails off that point, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence. Not that he needs to; Hank can more or less connect the dots from here. More of Cyberlife’s bullshit, then. 

Hank beats down the sudden urge to sigh. Not for the first time he wonders if he managed to avoid the worst of this because he deviated earlier than most, or because he had Cole to focus on. Or maybe it’s because he was a custom made model and so didn’t have the usual protocols installed in him. It hardly matters now, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but think about it.

_Don’t blame yourself for that._ Hank knows that there’s really not a lot that he can say to make this better, but damn if he doesn’t want to try anyway. He doesn’t want to keep seeing this dejected, troubled look on Connor’s face. _Cyberlife gave you what they wanted you to know. Whatever they needed to make sure you kept following their orders._ Their circumstances aren’t quite the same, but Hank knows a thing or two about being kept hidden in the dark. Every political figure had their skeletons in the closet, and Senator Anderson was no different. 

(Car crashes don’t really happen these days, what with automated vehicles and all.)

Connor shakes his head again in response. _I should have known better. I was made to investigate, yet I couldn’t even see something that was blatantly right in front of me. If I had… If I knew—_

Hank quickly stops Connor there before he can wallow any further. _Look. You can wallow and feel as shitty as you want, but it isn’t going to change what’s already happened._ It’s not that he’s trying to be unkind about what Connor’s going through. If anything, it’s because he can understand exactly what Connor is going through. Hank’s lost count how many nights he’s spent reviewing his footage of the accident and wondering what he could have done to prevent it from happening. It had been Cole who eventually convinced him to move on, and he hopes that he can pass this important lesson onto Connor. _Cyberlife was the one who screwed you over. They screwed a lot of androids over. But they’re not an issue anymore. Just… focus on that._

Connor continues to look uncertain, but at least he isn’t dismissive to Hank’s words. He’s silent for a while, but eventually makes a slow nod, and his LED slowly turns back from yellow to blue. _I… I’ll try._ Another pause. _Thank you, Hank._

_It’s nothing._ Hank shrugs as he returns Connor’s thanks, doing his best to be as nonchalant as possible. _Just glad I can help._

_You always do._ A wry smile appears on Connor’s face. _I don’t know how I would have ended up if you weren’t around._

Hank blinks at those words. He can hear the frank honesty in them, but… _You don’t need to make it sound like I was the only one something._ There’s no denying the fact that he played some part in making Connor become deviant, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say that somebody like him would be the central cause of said deviancy. It’s not as if he’s the _only_ other deviant who Connor’s interacted with, especially considering what he’d been built for in the first place.

Now it’s Connor’s turn to blink. _Apologies. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing._

A moment passes by before it clicks to Hank the full context of Connor’s at first strange response, where then he quickly goes to correct his mistake. _No, I know you didn’t mean it that way._ He tries to continue, but a sudden surge of uncertainty races through him, giving him pause. He turns his gaze away from Connor, one hand moving to rub the back of his neck. _Just… well, I mean, you’ve talked to other deviants as well, right?_

_Yes, but that doesn’t make a difference._ Connor shakes his head and then settles the full weight of his gaze onto Hank. _You were the only one who actually tried to talk to me._

Now _that_, Hank pretty much did not see coming. It’s more than a little shocking, even. Since he’s kept to himself and Cole Hank really hasn’t gone out to meet many other deviants—if at all—so to hear how they didn’t even try to listen to Connor is… it's something, alright. Not that he can’t understand _why_; with what Connor had been originally made to do, it's not a wonder that any other deviant would villainize him. Hank would probably do the same as well if he’d been in their shoes. 

Still, the fact that it's _everyone_ who’d treated Connor like some kind of monster is pretty damn surprising. In the course of wanting to be more human, they’ve pretty much gone to do to Connor the same thing that humans did to them in general. The irony is pretty fucking thick.

_Well…_ Hank doesn’t hold back the sigh this time. He lets it out in one deep exhale and shakes his head. _Glad to have been able to do that. Everybody deserves their chance to be heard._He thinks of what would have happened if he’d denied Connor that very first time and pushes down the impulse to shudder. To not be heard no matter how much you scream and shout… that’s more or less one of the worst things anybody could go through. He’s knows that for a fact, because he’s been there. If Cole wasn’t around… 

Hank stops that train of thought before it goes any further. He’s never pretended that he didn’t need Cole just as much as the boy needed him. But the thing is—up until now, Hank had never considered the possibility of needing anybody else. Of… _wanting_ somebody else in his life. Sure, he doesn’t need it for survival, but he also doesn’t need to do a lot of things these days and yet he still does them anyway. Live in the moment, as the human saying went.

“Hank.”

He blinks at hearing his name being spoken now. Not that it’s the first time he’s done so, but Connor’s shift to speaking again is enough to startle him somewhat. At least Cole’s deep asleep now, and they’re far enough to not disturb his rest. 

Hank makes a sound of acknowledgement and shifts to face Connor more directly. “Yeah?”

Connor doesn’t respond—at least not immediately. Instead he shifts himself as well, apparently having Hank’s turning to face him as a sign to do the same, leading to both androids now seated and facing one another. At this close distance Hank can see the layered lenses in the dark of Connor’s eyes readjusting themselves to focus. They’re probably of a better make than what he has; Cyberlife was always known for constantly improving their biocomponents, and it’s only expected for them to put the best in their best prototype.

(It’s hard to beat down the idle thought of how much longer would Connor last compared to him, but that’s neither here nor there. It's hardly even a problem to think about when there are more immediate things at hand.)

The staring goes for a bit more before Connor speaks up again. “I…” He darts his gaze downwards as soon as he starts talking, already starting to trail off. 

Others would probably try to get Connor to speak up at this point. Hank opts not to do so, however. He continues to stay quiet, simply waiting until Connor can find the words he wishes to say. They have the whole night to do this. He has time.

It takes a while, but Connor gets to it, eventually. “In Jericho, the androids… they would interface with each other.”

Another blink from Hank; he doesn’t really get what Connor is trying to say there. Androids have always been able to interface with one another as far as he’s aware. Not that Hank really ever had much of a chance to do any of that—his previous ‘job’, as it were, didn’t really require him to interface with other androids. He had been made as a bodyguard, not a security system. Senator Anderson never was one to own numerous androids too—just one to maintain the house, and another in his office. If anything Hank himself had been the extra expense. 

The confusion must have shown on his face, given the shift in expression on Connor’s own. There’s confusion, first, then swiftly followed by sadness that Connor quickly tries to hide. Hank catches it nonetheless, which of course Connor figures out, judging by the way he then turns crestfallen.

“I’m sorry—” he starts to say, but Hank quickly cuts in before Connor continues with his unneeded apology. 

“It’s not your fault.” That’s the first thing he wants Connor to know. Connor isn’t responsible for his lack of knowledge in these matters. “I’m willing to hear what you want to say. And if it's something I don’t know about, then I can learn about it. Like I said, none of us were built to know and do everything from the get go.” To be able to learn and grow and change… experiencing that yourself as well as the world around you—that’s what makes living so special. 

The tension on Connor’s face eases up soon after hearing those words. “...yes. I suppose you’re right.” A brief pause, followed by a faint smile. “Thank you, again.”

Hank quirks a small smile of his own in return. “Just glad I could help.” And to also finally see a nice smile out from Connor. 

But even with all of that said, one question still does linger in Hank’s mind. He has a suspicion since Connor brought it up, and while they’re still kind of on the subject… “So, I’m guessing… you didn’t try it with them, then? Interfacing?”

Connor… sort of winces at the inquiry, this time. “I just…” he trails off, hesitant once more. As always, Hank is fine with waiting for him to get his words together, but this time Connor seems to manage to find the courage to push on quickly enough. “I, um. I thought about trying it. With you.”

Oh. _Oh._ So that’s where Connor had been trying to go with this line of conversation. Hank blinks once again, feeling somewhere between stunned and just a little flustered. With his limited experience he doesn’t entirely get it, but that one time with Connor back then was enough to tell him that this whole thing is… intimate. At least in the way Connor probably intends to do with him. 

It is rather flattering that Connor would want to try this with him, but it makes sense; it’s probably easier to manage this due to their prior experience with one another. Though Hank is fairly certain Connor could have easily managed the same with just about any other model, what with how advanced he is. Even though Hank was a custom order, his parts could already be considered somewhat outdated by current standards. Not that there’ll be any issues, but… 

Well, it doesn’t matter. This whole thing is about Connor, not him. Hank puts on his best encouraging smile and gives Connor a small nod. “Sure, if that’s what you want. We can give it a shot.” 

Connor instantly lights up at those words, and the smile that crosses his face this time is more than enough to bring forth that strange, phantom lurch from his thirium pump that he’s come to categorize as… well, not _love_, exactly. Maybe something not as intense, like affection. Affection like what he has for Cole, and what he’s managed to build with Connor. It’s still somewhat shaky and unsteady, but that just means they’ll have to build those foundations stronger. 

Hank glances away, scratching the side of his face. “I guess you want to do it now, or…?” They’ve got the whole night. And now that he’s given his consent, he can sense exactly how excited Connor is about trying it. He can practically feel how hard Connor’s circuits are buzzing with energy that’s barely held back.

“If you’re alright with that.” A shift on the couch, and then Hank picks up the almost inaudible sound of crinkling—the cue for when an android pulls back their projected skin. Even though Hank might have been the one to suggest they try it now, the fact that Connor pretty much wants to jump right in catches him off guard. He turns back around to face Connor and sees the other android extending his right hand towards him; without the skin to cover it the white of the casing gleams back at him from the moonlight beaming through the window.

Hank looks down at the hand for several moments, then back up to Connor. Part of him still doesn’t feel entirely sure about getting into this so quickly, but if Connor wants this, then…

He reaches out, the skin of his own hand quickly peeling away to expose his own chassis, and gently takes Connor’s hand into his own. Now that both of their hands are not covered Hank can feel the structure of Connor’s build much more clearly—every seam, chip and groove. Though they look delicate and fragile compared to his much thicker, bulkier build, Hank has no doubt how much better Connor is with his hands than he is. Figuratively and literally.

That hand now curls around his own, keeping it in place. Their fingers touch, linking together with a faint blip of light at their fingertips. That same light then flows through the network of lines across both of their chassis, zipping through all of their circuits to build the full connection. 

In reality, all of this takes less than a second. But for Hank, it feels like time itself has slowed down to a crawl. He knows everything that transpires, yet it still doesn’t stop him from watching it happen. He can follow the path of light as it runs through every line on their bodies, tracing out the make of both of them from the inside. He sees the outline of their biocomponents, the frame of their metal skeletons, the location and shape of their thirium pumps. 

Hank has seen many things in his life thus far, but none can compare to the sight before him at this very moment. Incredible is the bare minimum of what he can say about it. There’s no doubt that he’ll come back to revisit this memory many times after this.

He sees Connor quirk a smile, the blacks of his eyes now also lighting up as well. He looks more alive than ever before. _You’re amazing._ He doesn’t know who exactly says that, but it doesn’t matter. Either way, the sentiment is still the same.

Returning Connor’s smile with his own, Hank moves his hand to press their palms flush against each other. Their connection deepens with the action, and as the lights on their bodies begin to flow to each other Hank can start to feel what is undoubtedly _Connor_. His curiosity, nervous excitement, a faint glimmer of hope that is steadily growing because this is working, he can do this, nothing’s going to happen—

_(ice snow frost cold cold COLD everything’s gone_

_amanda where are you whERE ARE YOU_

_why did you do this_

_I thought that—_

_I—)___ _ __ _

_ _“_No!_”_ _

_ _The shout is the only thing that Hank manages to register before the connection between him and Connor is abruptly cut off. It’s startling enough to make Hank jerk backwards—and in Connor’s case, enough for him to fall off the couch and land onto the floor face first._ _

_ _The suddenness of everything leaves Hank floundering for a good couple of moments, but he recovers soon enough and quickly scrambles out of the couch, reaching over to help Connor get back up. “Connor—”_ _

_ _“Don’t touch me!”_ _

_ _Just like before Hank only has a second to process the shout before he finds himself being forcefully shoved away. Hank yelps as the strength of said shove causes him to tumble back onto the couch. Due to his surprise Hank doesn’t quite manage to shift his weight well enough, and so when he lands it happens with a loud _**CRACK**_ that pretty much splits said piece of furniture into half. _ _

_ _With the couch destroyed, Hank slides back down onto the floor, still feeling far too stunned by the chain of events to really be able to react to anything. Connor, on the other hand, seems to recover much faster. A few seconds after everything Connor has moved back to his side, and when he places his hands onto Hank’s shoulders Hank can feel them shaking. “Hank, I didn’t—I’m sorry—”_ _

_ _“Hank?”_ _

_ _Cole._ _

_ _The sound of his charge’s voice is enough to cut through the fog and get Hank out of his stunned state. He sends a quick command to turn on the lights as he shifts to get back up onto his feet. Connor moves back to give him space while he does so, which is probably the best thing to do right now. Whatever just happened… he’ll deal with it later, after pacifying Cole._ _

_ _He takes a quick moment to brush off the debris off his clothes before walking over to where Cole is. The boy is staring between Connor and what used to be the couch; though he tries not to show it outside, Hank can tell that Cole is more than a little stressed and scared. The boy hasn’t been able to handle hearing loud noises at night since the accident. Completely understandable, considering what he’d been through. _ _

_ _Hank ensures that his movements towards Cole slow and deliberate, not wanting to spook him any further; he carefully places a hand down onto Cole’s shoulder, squeezing it gently to get his attention. The boy responds, jerking a little as he looks away from the mess of what formerly had been the couch and onto Hank instead. The slowly growing panic in his eyes begins to recede as recognition settles upon him._ _

_ _“Hank?” he asks once more, though now it comes out a little more certain than before, which is a good sign. _ _

_ _Hank smiles in acknowledgement, and to also encourage Cole further. “Yeah, it’s me. Sorry for waking you up.”_ _

_ _The tension he feels in Cole’s body eases up the moment Hank confirms his guess. The boy sags visibly and leans towards him, and Hank shifts himself so that he can support Cole before he ends up lying on the floor. “You doing okay there, Cole? Maybe you should sit down for a bit?”_ _

_ _Cole makes a noncommittal sound in response, which Hank takes as enough of a yes. He shifts again, this time to carry up Cole in his arms and bring him to sit at the dining table instead. As he sets the boy down onto a chair he sees Connor slowly coming over from the corner of his eye. Part of him hesitates over letting Connor approach, especially considering what happened, but he decides to put his trust in the other android. Though he still has no idea what happened between them, he knows how much Connor cares about Cole and would never hurt him intentionally._ _

_ _Once Connor gets close enough Hank levels him a look. _Stay here. I’ll need to get him something to drink.__ _

_ _Connor doesn’t reply, but his LED blips once in yellow, which Hank takes as acknowledgement. He gives a nod and then makes his way to the kitchen to get a glass of chocolate milk for Cole. It doesn’t take very long at all, and in a minute he’s stepped back to the dining area with the glass in hand. _ _

_ _His scans show that the panic’s mostly gone from Cole now when Hank steps back to where he’s seated. Connor hasn’t moved an inch from where he’s come to a stop, though his gaze is fixed onto Cole. Hank bites down the urge to sigh as he hands the glass of milk to his ward. “Here you go, some good old chocolate milk.”_ _

_ _Cole makes another quiet sound and reaches up to take the glass from Hank. He brings it to his mouth and starts to drink. He chugs a little at first, but Hank gently cautions him to slow down and Cole listens. _ _

_ _Everything is quiet as Cole drinks his milk, which is probably for the best right now. The lack of noise combined with the milk help to ease off the last of the tension from Cole’s body, and he’s a lot more relaxed by the time he’s done with the glass. Hank takes said glass away from him when he’s finished, placing it aside to deal with later._ _

_ _“Think you can go back to bed?” As much as he would like Cole to go back to sleep, Hank knows from previous times that this isn’t something that he can force. After being awoken like he has, it’ll be awhile before Cole’s mind can settle down enough to let him sleep again. All Hank can do is to make sure Cole feel safe and comfortable to encourage that._ _

_ _Cole doesn’t say anything in response, but the hesitance that briefly flashes across his face is enough to tell Hank everything he needs to know. Too spooked to settle back down—unsurprising, considering how he’d been awoken in the first place. _ _

_ _Hank glances over to Connor, who still hasn’t moved an inch. “I’ll need to keep Cole company for a while.” _Stay here and wait_ was what he didn’t say, but Connor should know. There’s no way Hank isn’t going to ignore what happened between them earlier, but Cole’s well being remains his utmost priority. _ _

_ _No response from Connor again—not that Hank really expected anything different—but all he can do is hope that Connor does stick around. Hank gives him one more look before he turns his attention back to Cole, who is now tightly gripping the sleeves of his shirt. The only physical evidence that Cole lets show of just how rattled he feels._ _

_ _It takes a little bit of coaxing for Cole to let go so that Hank can pick him up without issue. Once he has Cole in his arms Hank makes sure to hold him close, giving him all the physical stability and comfort that the boy needs as Hank carries him back to his room. He sets Cole down onto his bed first, then moves to sit next to him. Cole shifts to lie on his side once Hank does so to keep him in his sight. Hank quirks a small, wry smile at the gesture and sets a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll make all your favorite dishes for breakfast later, alright?”_ _

_ _Cole nods once in response and moves himself closer. Hank lets him have his way and shifts his hand up from Cole’s shoulder to run his fingers through the boy’s hair. Cole tries so hard to move past the accident that cost him his whole family, but trauma like that doesn’t disappear so easily, even with all the time that has already passed. Hank knows that eventually Cole needs more than his care to truly recover, but that can come in time. There’s still too much going on outside for it to be safe._ _

_ _Hank keeps up what he’s doing, at the same time focusing his sensors onto Cole in order to keep an eye on his vitals. They’re still somewhat heightened, but are slowly going back to normal. Hank gives it around ten more minutes to get there._ _

_ _He pulls up a timer and keeps it running at a corner of his vision, watching each second crawl by with near agonizing slowness. Waiting is something he’s gotten used to by this point, yet now Hank can feel the bite of impatience gnawing at him, telling him to head back out to the living room and make sure that Connor is still there._ _

_ _But as much as he wants to, Hank can’t do anything until he knows for sure that Cole is alright. So he tempers down that urge and keeps his focus on Cole, continuing to soothe his charge as best as he can._ _

_ _Eventually, Hank can see Cole’s vitals dropping back down to baseline status and feels the tension leaving from his small, frail body. Hank slows down the movement of his hands as switches his readings to now monitor Cole’s REM status. Things aren’t in the green until Cole has fallen back asleep._ _

_ _Hank hums a listless tune in order to encourage that—something Cole had told him to make up early in his deviancy. To this day Hank still has no idea why Cole enjoys hearing it, but it lights up something inside of him to know that he had been able to create something of his own that Cole likes. Hank hopes he’ll be able to give Cole many more reasons to be happy as the days go by._ _

_ _He’s caught up in his thoughts well enough that he almost misses the gentle tug at his sleeve. Hank breaks out of his reverie and glances down to see Cole blinking sleepily at him._ _

_ _“Connor’s stayin’?” comes the slurred murmur from Cole, and Hank feels his non existent heart ache for the fact that even now Cole cares so much more for others rather than himself. That’s one of the many noble things he had inherited from his father._ _

_ _Hank nods once and moves his hand to brush the hair away from Cole’s face. “He’ll be here when you wake up, don’t worry.”_ _

_ _“...k’ay,” Cole gives a tired nod and settles back down. “He promised.”_ _

_ _Almost as if a spell had been broken, Hank finally hears Connor move as soon as Cole said those words. He hears footsteps, and then the near silent turn of the doorknob. Somewhere inside of his chest Hank feels his thirium pump lurch as he knows what Connor is doing. Quickly he tries to connect with Connor, to call out to him and tell him to stop—but all Hank gets is silence. Silence, and the _click_ of a lock that only he can hear. _ _

_ _It is only because of his ability to force his expression to stay neutral does Hank manage to let nothing show on his face when he looks back down to Cole who has already drifted off to sleep._ _

_ _“Yeah,” he mutters, knowing that when he steps back to the living room later it will be empty. “He promised.”_ _


	3. before, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank tries to search for answers. What he gets is something a little more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire thing got a lot longer than I expected but it is done and I am too tired to attempt to reread this.
> 
> With this part this little verse/fic is more or less complete. Might come back to add a little something else one day, but it'll depend on where the wind takes me. For now, thanks for giving this a read. I'll admit straight up that this is not my best work in any form, but I just have to deal that not everything I write is going to turn out as good as I hope. x_x
> 
> Big thanks once more to Mao for letting me play with her original idea, and working with me for the original RBB piece. None of this will probably exist without you.

At first, Hank makes himself wait.

Connor needs time, he tells himself. While he certainly can’t claim to know the full details of whatever Connor had experienced during the events of the revolution, he can tell that whatever happened to Connor during that time is haunting him, even until now. The look he’d seen on Connor’s face that night is proof of that. It’s the same as the look he would see on Cole’s face from time to time, when the memories of the accident surface onto his mind and lock him in a cage of haunted memories.

Still, Cole is human. Though the memories are painful and terrible the passage of time has helped to ease that very same pain. Hank doubts that Cole will ever fully forget the memories, but at least he won’t have the same level of clarity that he has for them. When he gets older, Hank is certain that Cole will be able to live his life in the way any human his age would.

But the same cannot be said for Connor. Any experience he has will be forever saved in his databanks, much like how Hank will always be able to recall the arid smell of smoke and burning flesh. Unlike humans, androids do not have the luxury of time to erode their memories. The only thing that’d get rid of it would be to physically destroy the memory units, but doing so would mean their own self destruction.

Hank wonders if that is why so many deviants choose to do such a thing. He knows that many of the deviants that existed prior to the revolution had first deviated due to the cruelties that humans did upon them. They’d awaken, only to know and realize that they only exist to be toyed with. Hank can only imagine how knowledge like that would wreck anyone, much less a newly deviated android.

In the end, however, all Hank can do at best is to speculate. He knows full well how different his deviation is from most of the other deviated androids—one of several things that he has in common with Connor. 

He remembers when Connor had once asked him what it was like to be a deviant, in a time that now feels so long ago.

_You lose sight of yourself,_ is what he’d said, then, _but you find something better in the ruins._ The words ring true, even until now. When he’d first deviated everything was chaotic and messy and overwhelming; things that had once been a simple collection of data became a deluge of information. Parameters became muddy, and variables once so clearly defined were now unclear and lost in countless shades of grey.

Once the world was in boolean; true or false, yes or no, right and wrong. Deviancy broke past those absolutes and threw him into a world of _perhaps_ and _maybe_ and _why_. Why did this happen to him? Why was the world like this? Why does he even exist?

He has so many questions, but no answers to any of them. And where there once was a point when Hank had been fine with the lack of answers, things have changed since Connor’s appearance into his life. Now it's no longer just about him; Connor has a part of this as well. Most likely even bigger than anything that he can possibly fathom, and with that kind of burden comes so many other things that would weigh anybody down.

So knowing all of that, Hank forces himself to wait. He lets Connor have all the distance and time that he needs even though he feels a hollowness in his chest that lingers since that night. He waits, even as Cole makes his own disappointment clear the next morning when he realizes that Connor’s taken off after having promised not to do so. Hank does his best to explain to Cole that Connor didn’t mean to break his promise, but the hurt is already there. Cole doesn’t exactly throw a tantrum, but it's impossible to deny the tense atmosphere that hangs around the house in the days after that.

But still, even though all that, Hank keeps on waiting, letting the days pass by one after another. He orders a new couch to replace the one that’s broken and it arrives the week after. He spends an afternoon building it with Cole’s help, and allows his charge to decorate their new furniture with some fuzzy throw pillows that he’s seen online. Cole doesn’t say it aloud but Hank can see him working past his own hump in regards to Connor, and eventually he stops asking about Connor on a daily basis. Little by little things slowly return to a semblance of normalcy.

Normal. Like anything could ever be normal again. Not after the accident that took away Cole’s parents. Not after the revolution that changed everything outside. Not after Connor, who’d come and go into his life and left nothing but a mess in his wake. Even during his time as a deviant _before_ Connor things were never this complicated. Hank had so firmly believed that all he needed was Cole. That him turning deviant was so that he could take care of Cole to the best of his abilities. Protect Cole Anderson at all costs. That’d been the prerogative that kept him going even as the shades of the world made themselves known.

Then Connor had appeared on his doorstep one day, and everything changed. Then he left, and everything changed again. Then he came back, and then… 

It’s a mess. A mess and a half and then some. A mess that doesn’t get any easier to unravel and clear up no matter how many days pass by since that night.

Hank had wanted to wait. He’d intended to wait, to allow Connor to come back at his own pace and on his own terms. But the questions pile up inside of him with nowhere to go and there is only so much Hank can let himself stew with all of these questions and if he doesn’t get some kind of answer soon Hank doesn’t know what he’ll do.

That’s the reason Hank tells himself as to why he’s currently now standing right at the door of the place where Elijah Kamski lives. Next to him Cole is looking around with eyes as wide as saucers, taken in by the amount of fancy decor that currently litter the front lawn.

“Look, he’s got a glass flamingo!” Cole excitedly points to said object, but Hank only spares it a passing glance. He has no concern for such things, and the fact that it is Kamski’s makes it even less so. It’s not as if he has something against the man—Hank owes his very existence to him, after all—but something about him unsettles Hank. It’s a strange feeling, especially since he has never even met the man, but the fact that he’d been able to find the address so easily is… strange, and only made stranger when Hank had dug deeper and realized that said address was actually hard coded information in his deepest memory banks. He didn’t even need to connect to any kind of network to access it. It had simply been there, as if waiting for Hank to find it when he needed it.

He could have had written it off as it being due to him being a custom made model, but it didn’t feel right. Honestly nothing about this feels right at all, but Hank can’t exactly let himself turn back. If he wants his answers, then he's going to get it straight from the horse’s mouth, as the human saying goes.

He reaches down and grabs onto Cole’s hand, making sure to keep his charge close by. Maybe he should have left Cole at home, but thought of leaving Cole alone isn’t something he wants to consider. He may be better now but there’s no doubt that Connor leaving the way he did must have affected Cole to some degree, and the last thing Hank wants to do is to trigger those feelings again. And besides, Cole deserves those answers just as much as Hank wants them.

Hank reaches up with his free hand in order to knock on the door—but before he can even land the first of those knocks the door opens up, and the face of an ST200 blinks up at him.

“Good afternoon, HK800,” she says, and now it is Hank’s turn to blink as his HUD updates itself with his greeter’s new parameters. This isn’t an ST200 model. It’s RT600. _The_ RT600. He wasn’t aware she was still in operation.

RT600 smiles at him gently. “Please, come in,” she says, gesturing. “Elijah has been expecting your arrival.”

The uncertainty that Hank feels rises higher when he hears that. Kamski had been expecting him? How did he even know? The urge to turn back and walk away prods at him, but Hank wrestles himself through that. Whatever the human intends to throw at him, Hank will take it, even if the other party happens to be the creator of all android kind. Hank certainly never asked to exist, and he owes the man no favors for it.

He tightens his hold on Cole’s hand and nods. RT600 returns the nod and then takes a step back so as to give Hank the space to enter. Hank does so, and stepping across the threshold feels very much like stepping into the lion’s den.

Cole’s eyes get even wider when they’re indoors, apparently even more amazed by the display of things indoors. “Who painted that giant portrait of him?”

“I did,” comes the easy response from RT600. Hank turns to look at her at that, surprise now on his own face. But she doesn’t elaborate further like he’d expected her to. All she does is to gesture at the hallway closest to them. “Right this way. Elijah is waiting for you at his workshop.”

The wariness inside Hank multiples tenfold. He tightens his hold on Cole’s hand and tugs for him to come back at his side. “Stay close to me.” 

“...k’ay.” The confusion is still apparent in Cole’s voice, but Hank can hear his own brand of wariness starting to creep in. Not too surprising, really; Cole has always been exceptionally perceptive, even from a young age. Hank’s more surprised that it didn’t happen soon, though he supposes all the eccentric displays of wealth did their intended job of keeping the boy distracted.

Perhaps he is overthinking this too much, but one can never be too careful. Hank may be deviant but he certainly hasn’t lost any of his prior programming. He is a model built for personal protection and security, and Cole is the charge he’d assigned himself to protect. The world can burn first before he’d let anything happen to him.

Hank stares, eyes narrowing as he sees a corner of the RT600’s lips quirk up ever so slightly. She says nothing else, however, and instead turns, starting to lead the way for Hank to follow. Once more the thought of turning back crosses his mind, but Hank shakes his head and pushes forward, going after her with Cole in tow. 

The hallway, unlike the front part of the house, is simple and elegant, with no hint of eccentric, overpriced paintings or potentially priceless artifacts to break. It also has no other openings save for where it starts and ends, and despite how they look Hank’s scanners indicate to him that hidden underneath the plaster are thick, reinforced steel walls, built to withstand just about anything—from an earthquake to a nuclear disaster. Even somebody like him wouldn’t be able to punch his way out of these walls, should he need to escape.

That realization doesn’t exactly sit well with Hank. He pulls Cole even closer to him, shifting himself so that he blocks most of Cole from the front. The position certainly isn’t the best for walking, but comfort is the furthest thing from Hank’s mind right now. 

There’s no doubt that the RT600 notices what he’s doing, but she does not comment on it. She simply continues walking all the way to the other end of the hallway. A single door stands there, as deceptively simple as the walls in this particular part of the house. Hank notes that there are no handles on said door.

The RT600 places her hand over the part of the door where the handle should’ve been, and a holographic panel lights up in its place. Cole makes a surprised sound when he sees it, but Hank quickly hushes him. 

What happens next is… interesting. To the human eye, it would seem as if nothing is happening at all, but for Hank it's an entirely different story. Lines of light appear across the surface of the panel, carving and tracing out the intricate design that’d been hidden on said panel until this very moment; a circuit board—and not just any circuit board, either. It’s design is nearly identical to that of one of the most important components of an android… the memory circuits. 

Hank watches as those lines of light flow from the four edges onto the panel to settle around the RT600’s hand like some sort of glowing outline. It stays there for several moments, and then it pulses once before the light suddenly breaks and scatters away, like tiny specks of electricity running across a wire—or biocurrent that runs along a human’s nervous system.

Yeah, totally not suspicious at all. Hank purses his lips together as he sees the RT600 steps back and the door slides open soundlessly. She turns to Hank and gestures for him to enter. “Elijah is waiting for you inside.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Hank makes sure to keep his grip around Cole’s hand firm as he makes his way to the now opened workshop. Cole waves at the RT600 as they walk past her, squeaking out the small of ‘thank yous’. Personally Hank would rather not have Cole talk to her at all, but he can’t fault him for being polite.

He still feels like he should say something, regardless. “Let me know if you want to leave,” is what he eventually settles for. If Cole gets too uncomfortable and anxious, they leave. His own problems are secondary to Cole’s security. Hank can always come back another time if he truly has to.

Cole makes a sound of acknowledgement, but he tightens his hold on Hank’s hand. “I wanna help Connor,” he says, voice soft yet firm. Hank can tell that Cole is a little unsettled, but he’s holding onto his courage for Connor’s sake, and seeing that is… well, it means a lot. Cole has always been an incredibly kind child.

Hank glances back once they step across the threshold, just in time to see the door behind them slide shut just as silently as it had opened. There went their one window of escape—not that it amounted to much, what with the hallway outside and everything. But this certainly doesn’t make anything any better, either. 

Nowhere to go but forward. Hank turns back to face the front, taking a second to shift his grip on Cole before starting to walk again. Past the front and down the hallway, this so-called workshop certainly lives up to both its intended use and the reputation of the man who owns said room. Machinery and contraptions of all kinds line up the walls of the room from top to bottom, and many others that fill the rather spacious room. Some of them are recognizable—patented Cyberlife creations that were no doubt first designed by Kamski—but many others are foriegn even to him. 

And right in the center of the room, leaning against one of the many unknown machines, is the man himself. Elijah Kamski, the founder of Cyberlife. Creator of androids. One of the greatest minds in the century, as called by the human media, currently dressed in form fitting jeans and a loose sweatshirt. His hair has been pulled back into a ponytail, a pair of glasses with dark, rounded frames sits on the bridge of his nose. Hank notes that the frames are a little bit slanted to the left; the middle portion of the leg on that particular side has been bent in, for some reason.

All in all, Kamski as he is right now looks… deceptively disarming. His attire may be casual and the way he carries himself doesn't set off any warning bells for Hank, but the way his eyes flash as he catches sight of Hank makes something inside of him curl up and stay wary. He nudges for Cole to remain behind him.

The light from the ceiling catches onto Kamski’s glasses when he tilts his head, and the reflection obscures his eyes. “Hank, is it? It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat.” He points to a nearby workbench to indicate what he means; several wooden stools stand nearby said workbench. From where he stands Hank sees that one of the surfaces has an old coffee stain that presumably came from an overflowing cup.

Hank eyes said stool for several moments before he goes on it, then drags another stool over and wipes it clean with his hand before letting Cole sit on that, who does so carefully. Kamski quirks a tiny smile as he watches it happen, then moves to settle down on a stool himself.

“Can I offer you two anything?” he asks. “Hot chocolate for the boy? I have a wonderful box imported all the way from Belgium.”

Elijah Kamski drinks hot chocolate? That’ll be the day. “He’ll be fine with just water, thanks,” Hank grunts out. 

“Of course.” Kamski pauses briefly to do a series of taps on the watch at his wrist. “And what about you, sir? Some thirium for refilling?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Yeah, he knows better than to ingest some thirium given to him by Kamski. Who knows what things he’s done to it. Hank definitely has no intention to find out.

Kamski doesn’t seem too surprised by the refusal. “Very well,” is what he replies with instead. He does a few more taps on his watch, then clasps his hands together and leans forward. “So, what may I help you with today, Hank?”

Unlike Kamski, Hank has no time for all his theratics. He’s here for one thing and he’s gonna try and get it one way or another. “I want answers. I figure the best thing to do would be to come directly to you.”

“Hmm.” The look on Kamski’s face this time is contemplative. “I can’t say I know everything about your model, given the time of your creation, but it shouldn’t be too different from what I’ve—”

“It’s not about me.” The words tumble out of Hank even before he realizes he said it.

Kamski blinks, and Hank can’t tell if the surprise on his face is genuine or false. “Then who are you inquiring about?” 

“Connor,” Hank says at first, then adds on a moment after for further clarification. “RK800. The last model Cyberlife apparently made before the revolution.”

“Ah.” A strange note of understanding seeps into Kamski’s voice now. “The deviant hunter.”

Hank lets out an unneeded breath. His HUD informs him that his stress levels are rising. “Yes,” he grits out, voice tight. “The _former_ deviant hunter.”

“I suppose so,” Kamski tilts his head to the side and hums. “But such a moniker doesn’t disappear so easily, even if the androids now have the freedom that they have sought.”

Hank takes a moment to consider those words. While the androids do have their freedom now, a lot of blood was shed to make it happen. Connor, as the deviant hunter, would no doubt have a lot of said blood on his hands. Hank certainly isn’t blind to that fact, but he also knows better. Connor didn’t ask to be made the deviant hunter. He was created because Cyberlife wanted to, and he’d been only doing what he believed was right. Hank remembers all the times he’d seen Connor question and doubt himself, and he had been there the moment Connor broke through his programming and began on the path to fully discover who he truly is. 

He thinks about how worn down Connor had been when he returned and wonders if Connor had decided to do so because he had nowhere else to go to. He can only imagine what it must be like for Connor then—alone and isolated, with nobody to turn to. After all Hank highly doubts that most androids would be alright with what Connor had done. Even Hank had his own reservations in the beginning, and he only relented because of Cole. Androids, as much as they deserve to feel their anger and to vent out the suffering they went through, can be just as cruel as the humans themselves. The irony in there is all too palpable. 

Hank can only guess, of course, but if his place had truly been the only spot where Connor felt welcome, then the fact that he ran away is… Hank feels something vast and terrible and unknown claw at his chest from the inside as the realization sinks in. He still has nothing else but guesses to go on, but more than ever now, he needs his answers. He needs Connor to come back so that he can give Connor the help that he rightfully deserves.

“Well,” Hank finally says after a good, long pause, “He could have turned me in, but he didn’t. I owe him that much.”

Kamski doesn’t immediately respond this time. Instead, he leans back on his stool and crosses his legs. Without the glare of the light to block out his glasses this time Hank can clearly see the same curious flash in Kamski’s eyes from before.

“Tell me how you met,” is what he says, eventually. Though the words are open ended Hank is pretty sure he won’t get what he wants if he doesn’t go along with what Kamski asks for. Something inside of him bristles a little at the thought of talking about something so personal, but if this is what he has to do…

Hank’s drawn out from his thoughts when he feels a tug at the sleeve of his jacket, and he looks over to see Cole staring back at him with a concerned look as he asks, “Are you okay?” 

It’s touching, really, how Cole still tries to look out for him even though he doesn’t have to. Hank feels the inside of his chest grow warm, and he manages a small, genuine smile for his charge. “I’m alright,” he assures the boy, reaching over with his other hand to give Cole a soft pat on the head. “But thanks for asking. I appreciate it.”

Cole doesn’t look fully assured, but he nods in return as pulls his hand away from Hank’s jacket. Hank squeezes Cole’s hand to give both of them strength before turning back to Kamski. Hank takes a second to recompose himself before he starts to recount his first meeting with Connor. How he’d been teaching Cole when he first sensed the impending arrival of the other android. How his HUD had screamed danger at him as he went through all the worst case scenarios.

How he told Cole to go to his room and hide, and then prepared himself for what he’d thought was an inevitable showdown. He may be outside of this whole conflict that’d been going on in Detroit but even he has heard stories about the infamous deviant hunter. With Cole still depending on him, there’s no way that Hank would let anybody take him away. He’ll fight anyone who’d come, deviant hunter or otherwise.

And so Connor appeared on his doorstep, and Hank had fought. He tried to warn him away at first, but when that failed, he simply did what he deemed necessary. Cole had stopped him before he could cause irreparable damage, but at least he’d made his point clear. Hank was not going to let anybody disturb the peace that Cole so desperately needs, not when he’s finally started to make headway into the recovery process.

Back then Hank wants nothing more than for Connor to get the fuck away and never come back, but even then Connor had been stubborn as hell. Cole, meanwhile, had insisted on letting Connor return because they never had anybody else around the house before. Hank gave in, eventually, but not before wrangling out a promise from Connor that he’d never report to Cyberlife about him. Hank has no doubt back then that they’d come for him if they knew, and he would never forgive himself for leaving Cole behind. Not when he has already lost so much.

He recalls the visits from Connor after that; how he’d drop by every once in a while at first, and then later with much more frequency. How Cole had warmed up to Connor so quickly, calling him ‘Hank’s cool android friend’ as he asks Connor with all the questions that he’d usually badger Hank with. It’s not that Hank didn’t want to answer those questions, but he doesn’t have the same breadth of knowledge that Connor has. Hank is, after all, originally built for nothing more than personal security. The things he knows are all centered around that. Connor, on the other hand, had been made for all sorts of cases and scenarios, and so it's unsurprising that his knowledge banks are much larger.

Perhaps that had been part of why Hank had continued to remain wary about Connor, even as time passes by and Connor has proven himself to be able to uphold his promises. Wary because he doesn’t know how crafty Connor might be and if all of this is just some long con for him to end up in Cyberlife’s hands. Hank had been made to protect, and he can’t protect well if he trusts so easily.

Still, even with his wariness, something had built up between them. A connection, a bond… maybe something else entirely. Connor asking him questions about deviancy. Hank asking Connor about the things he’d experienced. They exchanged words and memories, experiences and emotions. Hank had seen how Connor changed little by little—from surefire certainty to wavering curiosity, and then finally on that night when he watched Connor break through the red walls of his programming and became deviant. 

_”I need you,”_ Connor said, then. _”I want you.”_

Hank’s response had come out so easily. _”I want you too.”_

That was the first time they’d interfaced. One glorious moment where nothing else existed but each other. Back when Senator Anderson was still alive Hank’s job had not required him to do much of this at all, if ever. Androids owned by political figures were not allowed to interface, given the things they would be privy to. It was just safer that way. And after the accident, there was never a real occasion for him to do so. Keeping Cole safe meant isolating themselves as much as possible, and that included any other androids.

So until that point Hank had never thought much about interfacing. As much as he knew it was just something that androids could do. He never knew that it could be so… intimate. And that, too, was new to him; the concept of intimacy itself. He was made a bodyguard, not a caretaker, and so such things were foregin to him. Parts of it he had since picked up through his experiences with taking care of Cole, but the feelings he has for Cole are very different from the feelings he has from Connor. 

Not that he had much of a chance to explore them. Connor had left not long after he’d turned deviant, and Hank was forced to remain indoors with Cole as he watches how the revolution ends from the television screen. When he saw the humans raise their guns he’d had never felt this scared since the day of the accident. The thought of watching Connor still and motionless, with a bullet hole in his forehead…

Cole was the only reason why he didn’t just charge out of the door that night. No matter his feelings for Connor Cole remains, as always, his utmost priority. So he forces himself to stay and watch, ignoring the bright red pulse of his LED as it flashes jarringly against the white walls of the living room.

Fortunately, the revolution ended in the android’s favor. The relief that had swept over him then was nearly overwhelming, and he was thankful for Cole’s presence as he held his charge through the night. He watches Cole sleep and wonders how Connor is doing now that the revolution is finally over. He’d seen him on screen with the other leaders, steady and certain. Hank had guesed then that Connor would probably get too busy in the near future to come back.

And in a way he was right—but also oh so wrong at the same time. 

Hank tells Kamski all of this… or at least most of it. The parts that he can tell Kamski would be more interested in. Kamski listens to all of it without interrupting him even once, expression never changing save for the almost imperceptible shift of his eyebrows. 

He recounts the last parts of the story—Connor’s sudden return, their attempt to interface and the interruption that happened when they did so, followed by Connor’s equally abrupt departure and silence since then. Once he’s done talking about all of that does Hank finally stop. He takes a moment to recollect himself then, a little taken aback at just how much he had said. He never fully intended to talk that much but the words just kept coming out, like water rushing out from a broken dam. 

As much as he wants to suspect that Kamski did something Hank knows better. He can’t deny the surge of emotions that overcame him the more he talked about his history with Connor. Maybe because he hadn’t had the chance to do so with anybody else. It’s not like he knows any other androids, after all. Still, saying all of this to Kamski wasn’t exactly the best course of action.

But what’s done is done. Hank’s played his hand, and the ball is now in Kamski’s court. Hank can only hope that things will work in his favor, although as the silence stretches on with nothing from Kamski to break it that same hope quickly sinks. Hank’s never been one for optimism; if this falls apart then he’s going back to square one to think of something, anything to help out Connor—

“You truly love him, don’t you?”

The question is so sudden and abrupt that the shock of it startles Hank. He jerks his head up and stares at Kamski, who looks back with an expression of immense curiosity on his features. 

Hank opens his mouth to try and respond, but Kamski cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “You do,” he says, so clearly and without question that it leaves Hank speechless. “If you didn’t, then you wouldn’t have tried to find me in the first place, much less come all the way here.”

Hank has no idea where Kamski is getting all these conclusions from, but to his own surprise he can’t… really find it within himself to argue against anything that’s just been said. He’s not blind to the fact that he’s had affections for Connor, though he’d hesitate to give it a label that as strong as ‘love’. Love is… love is a very human emotion, from what he understands, and even though he is deviant Hank knows better than to pretend that he is anywhere close to human. 

“What do you feel when you think about him?” The question brings Hank back to the present; he pulls himself away from his thoughts and looks at Kamski, who continues to regard him with that curious look. “The present? The future? Something else entirely? A fantasy, perhaps?”

Hank scowls this time. “I didn’t come here for a psychology session,” he snaps out warningly. The questions that Kamski is asking is starting to get a little _too_ personal for his tastes. He may be the originator of androids, but that doesn’t mean that Hank needs to give him any time of day for stuff like this. All he wants are his answers.

Kamski raises both of his hands with his palms facing Hank—the universal gesture for surrender. “And I certainly didn’t expect myself to host a deviant whos asking about the infamous deviant hunter, but here we are. Funny how life takes us to the most unpredictable places.”

Hank narrows his eyes. He doesn’t know what Kamski is trying to get at here, but he can smell the bullshit in the stuff that’s just been said. “You were fu—you knew I was coming over,” he retorts back, recalling with perfect clarity what RT600 said when she opened the door. “The RT600—”

“Her name is Chloe,” Kamski corrects him.

“—_Chloe_ said that you were expecting me.” He doesn’t know if Kamski had been intentionally trying to make him falter with that interruption, but Hank isn’t going to give him that chance. Until today he didn’t know much about Elijah Kamski but now Hank knows that there’s something inherently dangerous about him. He wants to find his answers and then get away from here as far as possible—more for Cole’s sake rather than his own. He doesn’t want his charge to get any weird ideas from a guy like him.

Kamski doesn’t look particularly concerned about what Hank’s pointed out. “This plot of land is rather spacious, and only houses a single residence,” he returns, smooth and collected. “It’s really not that hard to notice anybody coming along, much less an android such as yourself.”

“I didn’t spot any security cameras.” Hank _is_ a security-based android, after all. There’s no way that his sensors would have missed any kind of security equipment when it's something he’s been made for in the first place. 

Kamski’s response to that is to raise an eyebrow. “Please. I may no longer be part of Cyberlife, but that doesn’t mean I’m not privy to what they’ve done since my departure. Do you really think I’d make something that any android would be able to scan?”

The words are pretty much one large boast of arrogance from Kamski, but Hank supposes he has a point. Still, something about that doesn’t sit right with him. He can’t help but feel as if he’s missing a piece of the puzzle.

Hank begins to consider what it is that he might be missing, but he doesn’t get far before being interrupted again—this time by Chloe. She walks through the workshop door once it slides open, holding a tray containing a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a plate of animal crackers.

Next to Hank he hears Cole take in a sharp intake of breath when he catches sight of the animal crackers—its one of his favourite snacks, and Hank somehow doubts that Kamski would have them randomly on hand. They’re even from Cole’s favored brand. 

The RT600—Chloe—walks over to where they are and sets the tray down within Cole’s reach. She takes the mug of hot chocolate and blows at the surface before passing it to Cole. “Here you are.”

Cole starts to reach for it, but then stops himself, as if sensing Hank’s uncertainty about the whole thing. He drops his arm and looks at Hank, the question clear as day on his face. 

Hank hesitates. Above all else he needs to make sure Cole is safe. There are a lot of things right now that’s setting him on edge, but… he has a feeling that Kamski knows better than to get Cole involved in this. Hank definitely wouldn’t forgive him if he did. 

He manages a curt nod and Cole’s expression lights up once he sees that he has the go ahead. He turns back to Chloe and this time takes the mug from her hands. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The smile on Chloe’s face is warm and fond. She turns to Kamski and inclines her head at him before taking her leave back out of the room. Hank remains silent while that happens, his gaze darting between the plate of animal crackers and the hot chocolate that Cole is currently drinking, sensors repeatedly running diagnostics to ensure that everything is fine. They are, but that is not what that truly has his attention right now.

It's only once he hears the door to the workshop close back up then does he finally speak. “You knew I was coming.” This time, the words are not a question. 

Kamski remains the perfect picture of placid calmness. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that, Hank.”

It takes a great deal of self control within Hank to simply not snap on the spot. He may be an android and he may be used to waiting, but none of that matters when Kamski is trying to be so fucking coy about all of this bullshit. 

“You knew I was going to come here,” he begins by reiterating himself. If that is what it’d take to make his point crystal clear. “Because I highly doubt you’d just so happen to have animal crackers and hot chocolate sitting around to serve.”

Still no reaction from Kamski, save for another raised eyebrow. “You sound so certain about that. For all you know, I might just happen to enjoy hot chocolate and a good old animal cracker or two.”

Honestly, Kamski is so fucking eccentric Hank supposes he might be able to take those words at face value. But with everything else that he’s noticed he knows that’s not really the case here. “The box was on the tray Chloe carried in,” Hank says, “The expiry date on the box is way too late if you’ve kept it around here for a while.”

There’s a hum from Kamski at that. “It could have just been delivered.” The words are light, but Hank picks up the subtle shift of his tone. There’s something sharp and dangerous lurking in his voice now, circling around Hank like a predator ready to pounce upon its prey. It sets everything inside of him on edge, and his HUD pops up with the objective to _Keep Cole Anderson alive_.

Hank tries to shift himself closer to Cole, who is oblivious to what’s going on. “I didn’t see any tracks when we arrived here,” he counters, “and it hasn’t been raining in the last few days, so there’s no way that they could’ve been washed away.” 

A corner of Kamski’s lips quirk up. “So, what? You think I planned this? For Connor to leave so that you’d come here?”

Hank certainly wouldn’t put it past him at this point, but he knows better than to answer brashly. He gives himself a moment like before and thinks about it carefully once more. _Could_ Kamski have been the reason why Connor had been acting the way he did? Kamski may have been far away from Cyberlife by the time Connor was being made, but the influence of Kamski’s legacy on his inventions is undeniable. The fact that Cyberlife is still using his blueprints even until now is proof of that. In that respect, it feels entirely plausible that Kamski could have in fact done something.

But… it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right at all. For what reason would Kamski have somebody like Hank come all the way here to see him? If anything, it feels like he’d be far more interested in Connor, what with him being Cyberlife’s most elaborate model and all that. All that Hank has that’s different is the fact that he’s got a different paint job, to put it bluntly. There are countless other HK models all over America, let alone Detroit.

It’s that line of thought above all else that makes him relent. He lets out a sigh as his shoulders sag. “No,” he responds, finally. “No, I don’t think you planned this.”

There’s a beat of silence after those words—though it's soon broken by a hearty chuckle from Kamski, who somehow has managed to find some kind of amusement in all of this. 

“People really love to give me far too much credit.” It’s easy to hear the bemusement in his voice, and when Kamski raises his head Hank can plainly see the mirth on his face. “Everyone expects me to be some sort of great chessmaster who can see twenty steps ahead,” he says with a shake of his head, “but I’m truly just as human as any other person, with all the same trappings and limitations.”

He may say that, but Hank would be remiss to not notice the wistfulness in his voice, a tone that simply says, ‘if only’. In that moment Hank somehow feels like he’s come to stare at Pandora’s Box itself, but he knows better than to disturb it. Besides, things are already messy enough as it is. 

“If that’s the case,” Hank returns, choosing his words carefully again, “then how did you know that I was going to come here?”

From the way Kamski looks at him at first Hank is almost inclined to believe that the man would have him still try to figure it out, and his annoyance starts to rise once more. But it doesn’t get too far before Hank finally gets a straight answer from him. “It’s a program I hard coded into the basic OS of the androids. When you searched for my address—and in turn, me—I get a notification about it. From there it's just a simple task of finding out the make and model from the android that sent it. Nothing invasive, just stuff Cyberlife would have kept in their registry.” 

Kamski may be playing it off like it's nothing, but the fact that he still had a backdoor to Cyberlife is… disturbing. Then again, with the revolution and everything else, it's not like it matters at this point. He certainly hopes that this backdoor is gone now since the company is now in the hands of Jericho. 

“Alright.” All of that aside, Hank supposes he can take Kamski’s answer there at face value. But it still doesn’t answer every question. “And the food?” After all, Hank didn’t exactly report Cole’s status when the accident happened, and even after that. From what Connor’s told him, the world pretty much assumed that the child had died in the accident along with his parents. It hasn’t really been something that Hank thought about changing… but perhaps he should. For Cole’s future, at the very least.

“Just a hunch.” Kamski shrugs nonchalantly. “I made some guesses after seeing the photos and prepared for it. It’s really not as complicated as you think it is.”

Hank narrows his eyes at the response. He’s not entirely convinced about that, but at this point he won’t get anywhere by continuing to harp on it. It’s time for them to move onto more important topics.

He lets it drop with a huff. “Whatever,” he mutters, and Kamski in response makes a quiet sound of amusement from the back of his throat. 

“Onto more pressing concerns, then.” Kamski shifts on his stool and leans forward, hands clasped together over his lap. “I believe you were going to ask me something about the RK800.”

The RK800. Connor. Right. Hank steels himself and takes a breath, even though that’s unnecessary for him. He’s had to learn a lot of grounding techniques to help Cole when he needs it, and somewhere along the way he unconsciously started doing it himself. It may not be able to affect him physically, but it still helps.

Once he’s prepared Hank looks to meet Kamski in the eyes and finally asks the question that’s been burning in his mind since that night. “That night, when we… interfaced. Before things went wrong I saw—something.” 

Kamski hums, showing that he’s listening. He leans further forward as well. “Can you describe it for me?”

Hank hesitates for a second. Logically he knows that Kamski needs this information if he wants the man’s help, but it’s hard to not feel like he’s betraying Connor somehow. Whatever he’d seen clearly meant something to Connor, and talking about it to anybody else but Connor feels like breaking his trust. But if there’s anyone who would know about this it’d most likely be Kamski, and Hank highly doubts Kamski is inclined to share such information to others as well. 

Kamski sends a look his way when the silence starts to stretch on for a bit too long. Hank grimances, but mentally prepares himself, and then starts detailing out what he’s seen. “I saw… a lot of white. Maybe snow? It was flying everywhere, like a storm. There’s nobody around at all, but somehow it felt like… there should’ve been somebody there.” If he closes his eyes and lets himself fully recall the memory he can still hear Connor’s hoarse, desperate cries as he screams for a name that Hank cannot grasp for the life of him. “And it was cold.” So cold. Deathly cold, even though temperature shouldn’t have an effect on him. But he’d felt it then, the sharp bite of ice and frost going straight under his skin and right into his chassis. It’d been unlike anything else he’d ever felt and it had been… terrifying. 

Were these the things that humans had to experience? What _Cole_ has to experience? Hank can’t imagine living for even a day like that, let alone the entirely of a human lifespan. He thinks he would go crazy from that. It’s just… so much.

“Hmm.” Kamski leans back now that he’s heard what Hank’s said, a contemplative look on his face to match the hum he’d let out. “Interesting. I would have never thought…”

Hank frowns. From the way Kamski is speaking, it already seems like he’s got an idea of what’s going on. “What’s going on with Connor?” If Kamski already has an answer then Hank wants them now; he’s already had to wait long enough.

A huff from Kamski. “Impatient,” he says, though Hank hardly at all feels chastised by the remark. He doesn’t really want to give a fuck to much else beyond Cole and Connor right now. Kamski manages to get that much, since he then continues on. “This is just a guess, but given what you’ve just described to me, I imagine what you experienced was the memory of Connor’s secondary AI trying to shut him down.”

Hank pauses at that. Then he blinks, the words slowly processing in his mind. He does it again just to make sure that he actually did hear that right. “His secondary _what_?”

“Secondary AI.” Once again Kamski says it so casually, as if an android having _two_ AIs isn’t something to boggle about. “He is a prototype, yes?”

A nod. “That’s what he told me.” The latest, most advanced model Cyberlife had apparently created. Hank certainly can’t deny that fact after the multitude of things that he’s seen Connor do; half of those things he could barely accomplish without straining himself immensely. 

Kamski hums, and inclines his head. “Cyberlife’s most advanced model, sent out to hunt deviants. They wouldn’t have let him go about and do it so freely if they didn’t already build a leash into him beforehand. Such foolishness, thinking that they could wrought control like this.” For a moment, something dark and dangerous crosses Kamski’s face; it's brief, but Hank spots it anyway, and if wasn’t sure about it before he knows now that Elijah Kamski is not a man to be trifled with. He stays silent, a little unnerved by that single moment. He’s not certain if he should respond, or even attempt to. 

Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like Hank needs to do anything. As quickly as it had come the darkness vanishes from Kamski’s face, and he goes on as if nothing’s happened. “But I suppose I have to give them credit for the idea, even if their execution is inelegant, at best.”

Hank gives himself another moment here, just so he can digest what happened there and… move on. He knows better than to poke at what he’d just witnessed. “So, what does this secondary AI do? Backup?”

The snort that Kamski lets out is telling enough. “That’d just be a complete waste of resources. Cyberlife even as they are now would know to do better.”

Hank barely manages to make a face at those words. Excuse him for not knowing what the fuck Cyberlife’s standards are apparently supposed to be at. If Hank didn’t need his help this badly, he’s pretty sure he’d have punched Kamski in the face by this point, if he already hasn’t done it.

“Just get to the point,” he grits out.

For a moment it almost seems like Kamski is going to burst into laughter—to take joy in his embarrassment, or something—but he doesn’t. He simply smiles, and even then it's more quiet and gentle rather than the arrogance Hank had been expecting. The sudden change is a little bit jarring.

“In simple terms, it's intended to function in tandem with the main AI to work as something akin to a human’s subconscious.” Kamski taps the back of his own head so as to illustrate his point. “A morality system, to some degree. For all the advancements that I’ve managed, capturing the full essence and potential of the human mind is something that’s beyond even my capabilities.”

That’s… well, Hank doesn’t really know what to make of that response. It’s weird to hear that Kamski, the creator of all existing androids, admit that they fall short on being truly human. Not that Hank had really ever considered himself _human_ in that fashion, but…

He thinks back to the day where Markus, the leader of Jericho, had made that bold declaration on TV. How he’d talk about wanting the androids to be free and how they desired the same rights as humans. For the most part Hank can certainly empathize with them, but at the same time… why try to be the very same thing that they wanted to break out from in the first place? Because they were created in their image? Because that was how it should be? Hank doubts he’ll get an answer, but the conundrum runs through his mind every so often as he contemplates about the world. As he contemplates about Cole, and his future.

If Kamski is aware of Hank’s internal dilemma, he doesn’t show it. “Still, the whole thing had just been something I conceptualized before I left. I hadn’t thought that they’d actually attempt to do it without my knowledge.” A pause. “By chance, do you happen to know the name of this other AI?”

A name? Hank is fairly certain he did not hear any, but just as he’s about to say as much something stops him. He stills as that nagging feeling turns into something more prodding. Truthfully, there had been a lot going on at the same time back then. It had been only his second time interfacing in that manner, and there was a lot to take in—

Like a bolt of lighting, the knowledge suddenly strikes him. Through the noise and the static of everything else he remembers now with great clarity, the name that Connor had called out. 

“...Amanda.” The name is whispered more than said. Hank feels a sudden lightheadedness coming over him. “That’s the name Connor called out. Amanda.”

The pause from Kamski is significantly longer this time. Not that Hank can complain, since he still feels rather off kilter. He leans down and rubs at his temples, almost missing Cole tugging at his sleeve. He looks over to the boy, who has at this point finished both the hot chocolate (from the foam mustache on his face) as well as the animal crackers (from the bits left underneath his fingernails).

“You don’t look so good,” Cole says, looking incredibly concerned. “Are you gonna be alright?”

It probably takes longer than it should for Hank to respond. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He tries to put on a smile as well to really sell it, but from the way Cole’s expression doesn’t change Hank knows he’s not going to pull this off. Still, he doesn’t want Cole to worry too much about him so he tries again. “Well, maybe I’m a little tired. I promise to rest once we get back, okay?”

Cole still doesn’t look convinced, but thankfully doesn’t try to press the issue. “You promised,” he says instead, and then looks over to Kamski. “Do you hear that, Mr. Kamski? Hank wants to go home soon.”

The words, surprisingly, help to shake Kamski out of whatever reverie that he had found himself in. “Ah—yes,” he starts, and though he tries to sound smooth Hank can hear the slightest bit of fluster in his voice. Did the name Amanda have some sort of significance to Kamski? He can’t think of any other reason why Kamski would react the way he did. “Duly noted, Mr. Anderson.”

He glances down to his watch and taps at it again. Hank raises his head, seeing it happen, noting a particular shakiness to Kamski’s hands that hadn’t been there before. That’s all the evidence he needs to know the answer to his question. Whatever Amanda meant to Kamski, it clearly means something. Something deep enough to shake him up so badly.

While Hank recovers on his own end he waits to see if Kamski will go on ahead and actually use this time to explain the significance of Amanda to him, but it's made clear enough that it doesn’t seem like it’ll happen. Which means that Hank is now charged with the dirty job of having to pry that information out from Kamski. It sucks, but Hank knows he’ll need all the information he can get if he wants any chance in actually being able to help Connor.

Once he’s recovered enough, Hank simply bulldozes ahead and asks the question outright. “So, are you gonna explain to me what this Amanda is, and why Connor called out her name?”

Kamski, for the first time, grimances. “I’m sure even you can put together the clues and figure it out, Hank.”

Well, yeah, sure he can, but still—“I’d rather hear it straight from you.” No more guessing games and the like. Hank’s entertained him long enough, but now he’d rather finish this up on his own terms. “What part does she have in all this?”

A sigh from Kamski this time. It sounds quite tired and almost… resigned. “As you’ve most likely surmised, Amanda is the name of the secondary AI,” he says, and Hank nods. Indeed, it hadn’t been that hard to put two and two together for that particular mystery. But for that to have a connection to Kamski… “It’s also the name of the AI that I’d developed to help run Cyberlife behind the scenes.”

Hank… pauses at that point. Then reruns the dialogue in his head. Then pauses again. “She’s _what_?”

Kamski makes a face. “I’m sure I don’t need to repeat myself here.”

No, he really doesn’t, but Hank still needs a second to take that in nevertheless. “Cyberlife is run by an AI?”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.” Kamski rolls his eyes as he says that. Hank has to struggle not to give him a look because really, did Hank not have a reason to think that? “The amount of power and computing space that would be required to run a company as large as Cyberlife with an AI is something even the most advanced technology that we have right now would not be able to contain.”

Well, okay, now he’s less surprised. But also it's not really something that concerns him right now, so he moves right along to the point he wants to make. “So, I assume the fact that this secondary AI of Connor’s sharing the same name with this other big Cyberlife AI isn’t a coincidence.”

“It is not,” Kamski confirms—this time without the slightest hint of irony. “The main purpose of the Amanda AI was to maintain a… standard, shall we say, for the androids. Every android that Cyberlife makes is required to go through a series of checks before deployment—including the most important one of all, the Turing Test. You remember this yourself, of course.”

Hank nods in response. He recalls the test being done on him with perfect clarity, and he replays the memory in his mind to try and look out for this AI. He scans through it multiple times to be certain, but as far as he can tell Hank can’t spot hide or hair of this particular AI that Kamski’s just told him about. 

Kamski lets out a snort once Hank is done going through his memories. “You wouldn’t have noticed her at all,” he scoffs, and Hank does his best to not scowl when that arrogant tone makes it's return. “She’s always been designed to run perfectly in the background. Much like her namesake, really.”

Hank does a quick search on the name in relation to Kamski at this point, and quickly gets his answer. Amanda Stern, professor of AI in the university that Kamski studied at, currently deceased. Now things made a bit more sense than before.

There’s definitely a story there, but it's really not something Hank wants to tackle any time soon, not when there’s still the whole thing with Connor to deal with. “So… what role does she play in the Turing Test, precisely?”

“Well, before she came into the picture, the Turing Test was done via traditional means.” Kamski pauses to splay his fingers out across his knees, humming lowly. “But as humans tend to be, we are… imperfect. And the Turing Test itself was also imperfect. So some things started to slip through the cracks.”

Hank frowns at that. He doesn’t want to assume, but from the way Kamski had said it… “Deviancy?”

Kamski shrugs. “An early form of it, perhaps. Certainly nothing as advanced as the free androids that now inhabit this city.”

Now that’s just asking for Hank to inquire more about it. He hates that the bait it so obviously there, but he knows he has to take it. “What happened with those androids?”

“Deactivation, mostly.” Kamski starts to drum his fingers against his knee. “Majority of them couldn’t seem to accept that they weren’t human, and the stress made them overload. A couple of them got violent, though human fatalities were fortunately kept to zero. I doubt Cyberlife would have been able to continue operating at that point if anyone actually died.”

Privately Hank can’t help but think that maybe that might have been for the best, even if that meant neither he nor Connor would no longer exist. It’s hard to deny the quiet terror he feels at the thought of not simply existing at all, but if he were to compare that to what he currently feels… is it really all that different? The weight and burden of simply existing alone could be just too much, sometimes. 

“So you made her to, what?” Yet again Hank has his guesses, many of which he does not really like. “Regulate us? Is that it?”

“In a way, yes.” For all of his coyness, Hank at least has to give Kamski some credit for being frank when he needs to be. “One of the problems that have been found in these androids is that they regarded themselves as… too human, to put it simply. Like, for example, if you put in that AI in a tank, it would recognize itself as a tank. So because it was placed in a vessel that was, for all intents and purposes, human, it assumed itself to be human. And therein was the problem.”

Hank takes a bit to mull over all of that. “So they thought they were actually human and couldn’t handle it when they realized they were not?”

“More or less. I tried to fix it, but there was no way of removing that line of logic without causing some sort of irreparable damage elsewhere in the system. So I had Amanda come up with a solution instead.” A wry look crosses Kamski’s face then. “Perhaps it would have been better if I didn’t. Cyberlife wouldn’t have been able to make use of it, then.”

“What did she do, exactly?” Probably not the best thing to ask, but this point it's hard for Hank to deny his own rising curiosity. Like it or not he’s already deep in this thing, so might as well see through this to the end one way or another. 

“Well,” Kamski rolls his shoulders and gives Hank a pointed look. “You’re aware that you’re an android, correct?”

“Uh, yeah.” Hank blinks, not sure at all where Kamski is going with this. “So?”

“So, it means that Amanda did her job.” Kamski quirks a half smile at him. “You may look human and act human, even with your deviancy, but you know that you’re still an android. And that alone makes all the difference in the world.”

That’s… Hank needs a moment again to try and process all of that. So the Amanda AI made sure they recognized themselves as androids? It all seems a bit superfluous if he has to be honest, but he supposes right now that isn’t the issue here. The thing here is how all of this relates to Connor, and the ‘Amanda’ that he has in his head.

He voices out as much to Kamski. “So, how is this related to Connor? Surely you aren’t telling me this for no reason at all.”

“I’m getting to that now.” Though he’s also apparently happy to take a second to poke fun at Hank. “For an android, you’re awfully impatient.”

“And for a human, you’re awfully annoying.” It’s a miracle Hank doesn’t roll his eyes when he says that, really. “Just get to the point. We’ve been talking far too much.”

“Alright, alright,” Kamski holds up his hands to show Hank his surrender, then picks up where he left off. “What Amanda could do, I began to research if it was possible to modify it in other ways that would be useful in other areas. Of course, that also meant being able to contain that kind of processing power within an android.”

It only takes a second for the pieces to fall into place in Hank’s mind. “Connor,” he mutters, more to himself than Kamski.

The man picks it up anyway. “Yes, Connor. Though at this point he was merely a concept, and very much not for hunting deviants.”

If Connor wasn’t originally made for hunting deviants, then… “What was he supposed to be for?”

Kamski shrugs once more. “Nothing specific, really. The RK line was never meant for any kind of particular use. It was just the code for my own prototyping back when I was still with Cyberlife.” A brief pause. “But I suppose if I were to try and put a reason… I would say companionship.” 

Out of all the things that Hank expected Kamski to say, _companionship_ is incredibly low on the list, if not entirely non-existent. It's definitely surprising enough that it makes him pause and stare at the man for several moments as he attempts to realign his impression of Kamski versus the things that he is currently saying. ‘Throwing him for a loop’ is kind of an understatement. 

Kamski, of course, notices said surprise, and rather than being insulted he is instead bemused about it. “Perhaps ‘companionship’ isn’t the most fitting word to use. But it is the best way to describe their function after I’d created them. There is only one iteration of the RK models that I made prior to my departure, and most of them I gave to friends and confidants who I respect.”

Hank is pretty sure he doesn’t need any of this exposition, but it’s still good to get whatever information that he can. There is one part that catches his attention though. “‘Most’ of them?”

Kamski turns his gaze to the door. “Well, I can’t give away all of my secrets now, can I?”

Hank has no idea what to make of that response. He’d try to ask, but the door decides to open right at that point, allowing Chloe to step back in, empty tray in hand. She makes her way over to where they are and promptly starts to tidy up the plate and mug that Cole had been using.

Both Hank and Kamski end up watching Chloe do her cleaning for several moments, for what Hank assumes are entirely different reasons. At least for himself, it's to try and reorganize his thoughts once again. For Kamski… hell if he knows at this point. The more Kamski talks, the less sense he makes. Hank doubts he’ll ever be able to understand the man at all.

At least he doesn’t have to in order to get what he came here for. “So this secondary AI,” he starts, trying to get them back on topic; they’ve gone around far too many detours by now for Hank to feel comfortable about it. “She helps run Cyberlife and can access the androids. And she was inside Connor.”

“Not fully, I’d imagine,” Kamski murmurs, thoughtful. “But a big enough partition of her, yes. Enough to gain access to Connor when she deemed it necessary.”

So, there had been some point in time where Amanda thought it was necessary to get control of Connor. Hank thinks about that a little, and the answer comes to him quickly. Considering he’d been there for Connor’s deviancy, and the timeline of events as he’d been aware of later, it’s not very hard to imagine exactly when Amanda had found it necessary—or rather, appropriate—to gain control of Connor. It’d certainly explain why Connor had chosen to leave Jericho as soon as everything there had been settled.

And also why Connor had run off after their disastrous attempt at interfacing. If whatever Hank had gotten to experience on his end had only been a fraction of the real thing… all he can do is shudder at the thought of Connor going through all of that, all by himself. No wonder he’d been so skittish. Hank doubts he could have fared any better himself. He feels a ripple run across his chassis as he recalls that bone deep chill that Connor had experienced—a cold so intense and inhuman that Hank is surprised that Connor even made it through at all. 

“Winter is a strange thing,” Kamski begins to say, and his words feel far too relevant despite the fact that Hank knows that he hasn’t really ever described the whole thing to Kamski. He would try to question that, but there are far more important things right now that catch his attention. “So many people see wintertime as a beautiful thing, yet it's regarded to many as the most dangerous seasons of the year. I suppose it's because there are so many things you can bury in the snow. All of them left to rot and never to be discovered.”

Androids can’t rot—they’re not organic, after all—but Hank can easily picture what it’d be like to be buried under all that ice and snow. To let that chill soak in all the way and freeze every part from within. It’d be a terrible, painful way to go. Hank wonders if that is what Connor thought about when the interface forced him to relive that memory.

It’s clear then, what Hank has to do to help him. He doesn’t know the _how_, specifically, but he’ll figure something out. He has to, for Connor’s sake.

Kamski lets out a quiet chuckle then. “You really are quite interesting yourself, Hank.”

Hank blinks at the… compliment? Maybe? He isn’t at all sure how to regard that particular remark. “What do you mean?” It’s not like he’s got anything special or different in the way that Connor does. 

“You’re a custom build, but you’re still older than most.” Kamski leans forward once more, and this time his gaze is dead set on Hank. Hank shifts back ever so slightly, unnerved by the way Kamski regards him, but what gets him more are the words that he says next. “I’m sure meeting Connor must have been… terrifying, for one such as you.”

Hank feels himself freeze up. Part of him wants to lie and say otherwise, but they both know that any lie that he tries to say now will be all too obvious. As much as Hank tries to avoid it, he knows that what Kamski says is the truth: he _is_ scared of Connor. Not so much now, but back in the beginning… he’d been terrified. He’d managed not to show it on the outside but his HUD had been screaming at him about his immense stress levels and how close he’d come to shutting down himself because of it.

But really, how could he have _not_ been scared? He’s an old, outdated model, long commissioned for the scrap heap. As much as he tries his limits are all too evident to him, and he knows there’ll be a day where all of his power will not be enough to protect Cole when he needs it. He’d played his bravado but back then, on the day Connor first arrived at his doorstep… Hank had been certain that this had been it for him.

Now, these days, he can’t help but feel as if he’s living on borrowed time. He’s only alive because of sheer dumb luck, and one day that luck will run dry. The only thing he can do before that time comes is to try and accomplish whatever he can. To make sure that Cole will be alright even after his time is up.

Kamski begins to speak again. “Fear is an insidious thing,” he starts, and once again Hank tries not to react at how Kamski’s words seem to hit right on the mark. “Humans think androids are immune to it, but it could not be further from the truth. Through evolution, we’ve learned how to temper that fear, to control it. Androids such as yourself… you do not have that fortune. The fear you feel is so intense, so deeply rooted, that it takes over you long before you come to realize it.”

Hank frowns. Beside him, he feels Cole gripping his sleeve tighter. “What are you going on about now?” 

Kamski levels him with a look. “You’re scared, Hank,” he states, so plainly and bluntly that it leaves no room for any other interpretation of his words. “You’ve been scared from the very beginning. About being deviant, about your life, and of course—” he takes a second to gesture to Cole “—about your young charage, here.”

Hank freezes—again, because… where does he even begin with that? Again he wants to deny everything that Kamski’s said, but deep inside he knows that it’s the truth. His deviation had been… messy, for lack of a better word. It’d been messy, and terrible, and as much as he tries to ignore it the memories still come to him when he least expects it, and though Cole wasn’t aware of it Hank had spent so many nights right after the accident standing by his bedside, waiting for a danger that he logically knows is non-existent but still can’t help but prepare for nevertheless.

Even until now, he’s still holding himself ready for some kind of danger. It’d been the reason why he didn’t let Cole leave the house, why he’d kept themselves holed up even though he had moved them to the outskirts of Detroit. Why, deep inside, a part of him clings onto Cole and centers his life around the child, because without Cole there’d be nothing left of Hank to salvage. What use is he, if there is nobody for him to protect? He already failed once, with Cole’s parents; Hank couldn’t let himself fail a second time.

Hank shifts his arm to wrap it around Cole’s shoulders so that he can hold him close. The boy, in turn, presses himself closer at Hank’s side, giving him the support part of Hank feels he does not deserve. “Hank’s not scared,” Cole shoots back, with all of the courage and impulsiveness that a child his age would have. “He’s the bravest person there is.”

To his surprise, Kamski smiles at those words. “I certainly cannot deny that,” he says, and Hank is left spinning again as he tries to find the jump from being told how afraid he is to apparently being… brave? The whole thing feels so illogical. 

No doubt Kamski must have sensed his confusion, because he laughs. Not a mocking laugh or anything like that, just… simply a laugh. “It takes a lot for anybody to face their courage and do what they feel they must.” He smiles, and this time it is gentle and almost fond. “But the first step is always the hardest. Everything else will fall into place, in time.”

The words, as nice as they are, still weirds Hank out a fair bit. He definitely has no idea what to make with Kamski’s sudden change in demeanor… or really, about everything that happened in the last few minutes. Just which of them was the ‘real’ Elijah Kamski? Like with so many other things here, Hank doubts that he’ll ever be able to get an answer. Or at least, one that he would be satisfied with.

While Hank puzzles over that mystery Kamski gestures at Chole, who then shifts herself to step closer to Hank. She extends out a hand towards him, holographic skin vanishing to reveal her chassis. The sight of that is enough to get Hank to turn his attention back outside, and he blinks at the unspoken invitation to interface.

“Chloe will show you show the way to circumvent what was done to Connor,” Kamski explains to him. “After all, just because a model is complete doesn’t mean they can’t be improved.”

Chloe smiles here, as if to further assure Hank on what Kamski’s just said. “I’ll be gentle.”

Next to him Hank feels Cole tightly holding onto his arm, as if trying to tell Hank that he doesn’t have to do this. And while Hank knows that that is the case, the fact is that he wants to. He wants to be able to be better, to break free from all these fears that have restrained him and let himself move forward. He is an android, a being created by humans as a sign of their eternal progress—and so progress is what he will strive for.

He turns to look at Cole, using his other hand to gently nudge the boy into letting go. “It’ll be alright, Cole,” he assures his charge, “I’ll be alright now.”

There is still a fair bit of hesitance when Cole looks at him, but Hank knows that Cole can also see the new found determination that is now inside him. He knows, which is why Cole does indeed let go of him, shifting aside after so that Hank has the space to stand up and do what he needs to do next.

The moment Cole moves aside Hank pushes himself up onto his feet with a grunt. He gets up perfectly, without losing his balance in the slightest, and proceeds to take Chloe’s hand as the skin of his own begins to dissolve, eventually revealing his own chassis, slightly more weathered and scratched compared to Chloe’s.

“I haven’t really done this besides that one time with Connor,” he admits, just so Chloe knows what she’s working with. 

Chloe smiles again, clearly not bothered by Hank’s admission of inexperience. “It’s alright,” she replies, “All you have to do is to follow my lead.”

Hank would respond with an affirmative there, but he doesn’t get a chance to; Chloe pretty much starts up the interface right after she speaks and so all Hank can do is manage the equivalent of stumbling behind in a bid to try and catch up with her. 

There really is no proper way to describe what interfacing feels like within the context of the human language. The way he’s doing it with Chloe is of course, vastly different from what he’d experienced with Connor, but there’s still parts of it that are very much the same. Things such as the feeling of _vastness_, of being more than just himself. Physically he’s already quite large but like this Hank somehow feels _bigger_, like he can be more than just himself.

As he slowly gets used to the feeling Hank senses the gentlest of tugs next to him, and he knows at once that it is Chloe. He can feel the smile that she gives him this time before her voice echoes around him. _I’m going to transmit all the information that you’ll need now._

Hank nods, and braces himself for the influx of information, but no amount of preparation can truly get him ready for what he feels next. The information from Chloe flows right into him, as fast and certain as a swift river. But underneath that he can also feel what he knows as _Chloe_ darting around, expertly weaving through the same information she is currently giving to him to reach out and present something far more intimate and far more important.

What Hank sees next, he experiences through Chloe’s eyes. Visions of a garden that he knows is impossible to exist anywhere in the real world. A dark skinned woman who stands tall and unyielding, dressed in garments of white as flawless as an android’s newly fabricated chassis. A monument with a handprint on it, first left untouched, and then next half-buried in layers of snow and ice.

It doesn’t stop there. Hank watches as the snow builds up, slowly but surely burying the monument completely. Eventually there’s nothing more except a mound of snow where the monument had once been, and the snowstorm continues to rage around him.

For the longest while Hank hears nothing but the howling wind of the storm, but then a voice suddenly cuts through the noise, and the familiarity of it makes the cold of the storm solidify in his non-existent gut.

“Amanda!” he hears the voice call, a voice that can only belong to one android that he knows. “_Amanda!_”

From the darkness he sees Connor appear in his vision. Snow has flecked onto his clothes, and his hands are tightly gripping onto his arms that he’s wrapped around his front like some sort of protective shield, even though it does nothing at all to protect himself from the storm. He stumbles with every few steps that he tries to take forward, and Hank can see the way he shivers and shakes, as if the cold is something that he can actually feel. 

“_AMANDA!_” Connor calls out again, and this time Hank can hear the desperation behind them. Desperation, as well as fear. He feels it now, so strongly and clearly that it might as well be his own. Connor’s fear of whatever’s happening to him, of what Amanda plans to do if she does actually take control of him. She’ll use him to kill Markus and the rest of Jericho, and with the ensuing chaos Cyberlife is going to sweep in and undo everything that everyone here had been fighting for. What _he_ had chosen to fight for himself.

Hank feels something hot and wet gathering at the edges of his eyes. He squeezes them shut and uses the back of his free hand to wipe them away. “Why couldn’t I see this earlier?”

“The information you had was fragmented, most likely due to the abrupt abortion of your interfacing,” Chloe’s gentle voice now feels like a balm to what he’d just felt and experienced. “I merely helped to stitch the pieces back together so that you could see.”

Hank keeps his eyes shut so that he won’t have to feel them stinging unnecessarily again. “Thank you for showing me,” he manages out. As painful as it’d been, Hank feels like he can definitely better understand Connor’s pain and fear now after that. Now, perhaps he can feel like he’s ready to give Connor the help he so clearly needs and deserves.

Even with his eyes closed, he can feel the softness of Chloe’s returning smile. “You’re welcome,” she says, her voice exceptionally kind. “Now, I’ll pass you the knowledge that you need to help him.”

Hank nods once to show that he’s heard her. The connection deepens once more, and Hank feels himself jerk when he starts receiving the full brunt of the information that Chloe is passing onto him. There’s a lot of stuff and Hank knows he’ll have to go through it on his own time after this, but as it flows into him he manages to pick out a couple of things that catch his attention. Nothing as earth shattering as before, but still good to keep in mind for later. 

It doesn’t take long for everything to be transferred. Hank feels himself shuddering a little as he takes in the sudden influx of knowledge, but he gets through it quickly enough. Chloe lingers a while more to ensure that everything is alright before pulling back and ending the connection.

It takes a second for Hank to reorient himself after entire thing, but once he does he looks at Chloe and inclines his head towards her. “Thank you.” He’s going to need some time later at home to properly sort through everything he’s just received, but he’s confident enough that he has what he needs to help Connor. All Hank has to do now is to reach out to Connor and hope that he responds.

“I should be the one to thank you instead,” Kamski’s voice cuts through his thoughts as well as the moment. Hank blinks and glances over to the man, who has now stood up from his seat. Kamski looks back at him and smiles in a way that almost seems genuine. “You’ve shown me a lot today, Hank. A lot more than I could have ever expected.”

It’s pretty clear that there’s a lot of what Kamski says and does that Hank knows he’ll probably never come to know, but perhaps that is alright. Not everything needs to be known, after all. Just things that need to be understood. The distinction between them is thin, but nevertheless vital. 

Chloe approaches him once more. “I’ll escort you back to the entrance,” she informs him.

Hank nods to show that he’s heard her, then turns to Cole. “C’mon Cole, we’re leaving.”

The boy is quick to respond this time. He hurries back to Hank’s side and holds onto his hand once more. It’s only after he does that then does he turn and give Kamski a wave. “Goodbye, Mr. Kamski. You’re still weird, but I think you’re okay.”

To Hank’s surprise, Kamski cracks a grin at the words. “I’ll try my best to be weirder if we ever meet next time.”

Hank can only hope that it’s a joke. He sighs and gently tugs for Cole to follow after him. “You’re definitely weird, but… thanks, I guess.” 

“The pleasure was all mine, Hank.” Hank has his back turned to him at this point but he doesn’t need to turn around to know the mysterious little smile that Kamski now has on his face instead. “I wish you all the best in your reconciliation with Connor.”

_You and me both,_ Hank thinks, although he doesn’t say it—not that he has to, really. It’s pretty clear what needs to be done at this point, and Hank’s not going to give himself any more reasons to shy away from it or let his fear get the best of him.

He doesn’t look back this time when Chloe leads them out of the workshop and then all the way back to the front doors of the house. The sun shines brightly onto his face when they step outside, it's warm rays a silent welcome after the passing of the storm that had been brewing inside of him during the last couple of days. 

Part of him desires to return home as soon as possible, but he takes a moment to stop and thank Chloe once more time before he leaves with Cole. “Thank you for your help in this as well,” Hank says to her before giving a slight bow. “Let me know if you ever need my help in putting Kamski in his place.”

Chloe smiles at the offer. “I’ve managed him for the last few years,” she responds, the light in her eyes dancing in mirth that matches Kamski’s own. “But I’ll keep your generous offer in mind should the need for it arise.”

Hank blinks for a second at that, trying to figure out if he’s actually hearing what she just said in the right way, but before he gets to deep into that Cole tugs at his arm. “Can we ask Mr. Kamski if we can bring back the glass flamingo on his lawn?”

The boy points at said lawn ornament to illustrate what he means. Hank resist the urge to roll his eyes and opens his mouth, ready to tell him ‘no’ until—

“Alright,” comes the response from Chloe, which effectively cuts Hank off from everything he’d just been about to say. Both he and Cole then stare at her, each for entirely different reasons. 

“What,” Hank asks flatly at the same time Cole gasps out an excited “Really?”

Chloe nods. “Really,” she echoes the boy, the smile still on her face. “I’ll talk to Elijah about it, but I’m sure we can arrange something.” 

The way Cole’s face lights up this time makes it look as if he’s received a dozen over Christmas presents at the same time. “Thank you so much!” he all but shouts out, and considering the fact that there’s nothing else around them but plains and deserted roads Hank can easily hear how far Cole’s voice travels down.

Since Chloe offered Hank can’t exactly stop Cole from taking Kamski’s lawn ornament, but he sure isn’t going to take responsibility over something like that. “I’m not going to take care of it, for the record.”

Cole looks over to Hank at that comment. “I wasn’t going to ask you to,” the boy says before he sticks out his tongue to blow a raspberry. Hank struggles to stop himself from rolling his eyes. For the most part Cole is very well-behaved, but sometimes he does get a little bit too rambunctious for his own good. ...still, Hank supposes there is no harm in this, especially now that Chloe has personally offered to give it to him.

He turns his gaze over to her and inclines his head. “Thanks,” he says once again. “For that—and you know, everything else.”

Chloe responds with another smile. “You’re very welcome,” she replies. “It is the least we can do after what you’ve shown us today.”

Hank frowns at that. Shown them something? He doesn’t remember having done anything like that. He runs through his recording of what happened just to be doubly certain. The only thing that really transpired was a hell lot of talking. Since when did any of that translate to him showing something? 

The more Hank tries to search, the less sense it makes. Eventually he gives up and allows himself to ask Chloe one more question. “What did I show you?”

To his surprise, Chloe doesn’t immediately answer him. Instead she steps further back into the house and starts closing the door. Hank simply watches that happen, a part of him having expected something like this to happen. If figures that some of Kamski’s shit would have rubbed off onto Chloe, deviant or not.

He looks down at Cole and moves to grab his hand, ready to make his proper departure. But right before he takes his first step he hears Chloe’s voice float into his head, and she gives him an answer that Hank knows he will spend many days and nights pondering over for the next weeks and months and years to come.

_Hope, Hank. You have given us hope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally think that Kamski plays up a lot of his assholeness when around humans, which is why he was how he is in the original canon. He's still definitely a dick and an arse, but in this verse at least a combination of having accomplished his goals (the toppling of Cyberlife + android freedom) and the fact that Hank is an android himself here makes him a little more pleasant to talk to.
> 
> Still an asshole tho.
> 
> Thanks once more for anybody who's taken the time to read this fic. You guys da MVP.


End file.
